


you're daylight breaking over my horizons (i rise every day to see you)

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Domesticity, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sleepy Cuddles, Slice of Life, Soft Kisses, all the hugs they deserve, casual sharing of personal space, gratuitous mentions of chocobos, high school era, prompto argentum's freckles, this fic is soft™ because these kids deserve it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-03 15:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 31,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: noctis and prompto and the pockets of sweet nothings between them, as easy as renting a chocobo, or hitting up the arcade after class, or hiding from ignis' tutoring sessions, or challenging gladio to a push-up contest, or falling asleep against your best friend on the couch, not a care for the line between a prince and his subjects nor the fate of a kingdom and the will of the gods---that's a worry for another day.[a fluffy collection of ficlets, guaranteed soft™ because these kids deserve it.]





	1. here, i saved some for you. try it?

**Author's Note:**

> hello it's me again ur local one-stop shop for softness where we don't talk about altissia except maybe to comment on how pretty it is before everything went to shit
> 
> this fic will be a collection of fluffy drabbles mostly based on [this list](http://puddingcatbae.tumblr.com/post/131733132260/non-romantic-fluff-starters), but feel free to request a fluff prompt for this collection any time!!
> 
> i'll likely update tags as characters and situations arise.  
> as always, these drabbles can be read as platonic or more or in between /shrug emoji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high school era; canon-compliant

Prompto is still laughing when Noctis lets them into his apartment. Noctis can feel his own face stretch into a smile just listening to the sound. Prompto laughs with his whole body, head thrown back and eyes nearly shut, forgetting to be self-conscious for once. It’s contagious, his laughter, so bright and bubbly and full of pure amusement. Noctis thinks he can spend forever listening to that sound.

“Oh man,” Prompto says, wiping at his eyes. “You better not tell that joke in class, I’m going to get us both detention.”

“Noted,” Noctis replies.

They drop their bags on the floor, ready to forget about homework until after a few rounds of gaming. Noctis owns most of the latest consoles and games, but he finds that he only really enjoys them when Prompto’s playing with him. The couch is comfier with Prompto bouncing around next to him. He doesn’t even mind being jostled around because Prompto doesn’t seem to know how to stay still. 

Noctis has lost two rounds (which Prompto has reminded him nonstop for the last thirty seconds) when he throws his controller down. “That’s it,” he says, ignoring Prompto’s stupidly sunny grin. “Are you hungry?”

“Um, a little bit. But it’s not dinner time yet?”

Noctis hums. He makes his way to the kitchen, suddenly remembering the plastic container in the fridge. He can feel Prompto hovering curiously behind him as he pulls it out. “Here, I saved some for you. Try it?”

“What are those?”

“They’re supposed to be some sort of Tenebraen tart. I had them when I was there... uh, visiting, I guess. Specs has been trying to capture the taste but no such luck.”

“No way,” says Prompto, peering at the sweets as Noctis dumps them onto a plate. “Iggy failing at a dish?”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Noctis sticks them into the microwave. He moves over slightly as Prompto hops up onto the counter. If Ignis was here, he’d definitely be throwing a fit. Noctis only leans back against Prompto’s legs.

Absently, Prompto tugs at the hair on the back of Noctis’ head, the longer strands tangling just above his collar. “I bet it still tastes phenomenal, though. I wonder if Iggy would mind giving me a few tips in the kitchen.”

“You can’t even stand his tutoring sessions, how would you survive his cooking lessons?” Noctis ducks when Prompto swats at his head. “You’re right though,” he says, tilting his head back to catch Prompto’s eyes, upside down. “They still taste amazing. Just not quite like I remember.”

Prompto grins down at him. “I can’t wait to try them.”

 

 

 

 

 

  
(Ignis receives an incoherent text riddled with spelling errors and exclamation marks from one Prompto Argentum. He squints at it in the middle of dinner with his uncle, but the only parts he can make out are  _ soooooo frikciGN DELICIOSU  _ and  _ pls tea c h me mstr chef _ . Despite himself, Ignis can feel a small smile gracing his lips. It would seem Noctis’ best friend has finally tried Ignis’ infamous new recipes.)


	2. i just really need a hug right now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post-zegnautus keep ; canon-compliant-ish (but hopefully kinder than canon)
> 
> i lied guys this one isn't that fluffy at all it's aNGSTY but leans more towards hurt/comfort i hope!!

They make it to a safe room before Prompto’s legs give out. Gladio is there to catch him, and Noctis isn’t far behind. Prompto still won’t look any of them in the eye. Even Ignis is wearing a worried crease in his forehead, though he refrains from making a remark in the almost oppressing silence between the four of them.

“Sorry,” Prompto says, and he repeats it a few times before Gladio finally shushes him quietly, easing him into a bunk. He doesn’t look up from his worn boots.

Ignis shuts the door behind them, and the harsh creaking and groaning of the Keep lessens immensely. He reaches out for anything that can block the entrance so they can finally have the rest they deserved. Gladio walks over to help him, giving Noctis a meaningful look as he passed. Noctis would glare back but there’s something more important than his pride right now.

Carefully, leaving enough space so Prompto can move away if he wants to, Noctis sits next to his friend. “Hey,” he says. “Are you okay?” He immediately cringes, hearing how stupid that sounds as soon as it leaves his mouth. None of them are okay. They haven’t been okay for a long while, now.

But Prompto doesn’t even attempt to smile or make a lame joke. He seems to shrink into himself. Noctis has never seen his friend so small, so tired, so... dim. Not even when they were crawling through caves that seemed determined to trap them forever. 

He’s going to find Ardyn and he’s going to kill that bastard.

“Prompto,” Ignis says, stepping towards them cautiously. “Are you in need of curatives?”

Prompto starts to shake his head, then jerks, mouth fumbling to say, “N-No, no, I don’t—don’t need anything.”

“Alright,” says Ignis, and by now they all recognize the tone he takes when he feels differently but chooses to accept rather than aggravate.

Noctis isn’t so willing to comply. “Prom,” he says, edging closer. “You’re safe now. He’s not going to lay another finger on you ever again, okay? Just... tell us what’s wrong.”

“N-Nothing’s wrong.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Noctis says before he can stop himself, “and you know it.”

“Noct,” Gladio says in warning.

Noctis doesn’t even spare his Shield a glance. His eyes are on Prompto’s face, noting the way those blue eyes are tight around the corners, how those thin lips are dragged down in a heavy unhappy line, the new scars littering that familiar freckled face. “We’re here for you, Prompto.”

His friend doesn’t respond. Prompto’s shaking, Noctis realizes. His left hand is latched onto his right wrist, so tightly his knuckles have turned white. His right hand shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

“Noct is right,” Ignis says into the silence. His face is turned towards them, expression weary, but voice kind. “Tell us what you need, Prompto, and we’ll give it, to the best of our ability.”

“Yeah,” Gladio pipes in. He’s leaning against the closed door, eyes gentle where they rest on Prompto’s bowed head. “You’re important to us, kid, so speak up if you need to, yeah?”

It takes Prompto a while. They’re all exhausted, the kind of exhausted that sinks into your bones and festers until it becomes a part of you, the kind of exhausted that you forget you ever weren’t. But they wait, quiet and gazes lowered, listening to Prompto’s stuttering breaths until he finally sucks in a hard breath, eyes closed and fingers loosening.

“Th-Thanks, guys,” he says, and Noctis can hear how he tries to tilt his voice back up to his usual lighthearted tone, the one that is so distinctly  _ Prompto _ , and he nearly makes it, too. “I’m—really grateful you guys came for me.”

“Of course we would,” Noctis replies immediately. 

Prompto glances over at him. His lips twitch into a watery smile. “Yeah. I... I kn-know that.”

Noctis sits up, facing Prompto square on. He keeps his voice soft when he says, “I’m sorry for what I said on the train. I didn’t mean it. I thought—It was—”

“Yeah,” Prompto interrupts. His gaze slides away for a moment, before trailing back. “I know, it was—Ar-Ar—” His mouth trembles and his voice refuses to cooperate.

“You don’t have to say his name,” Ignis tells him quietly. He doesn’t see the relief that spills across Prompto’s face, but Noctis does, and he quickly squashes down another flare of anger at the man that hurt his best friend.

Prompto is taking in another shaky breath. “Hah, this is—this is silly, but I, can I—?”

“What is it?” Noctis asks gently.

“Can you—I want—I just... really need a hug right now—”

Prompto’s barely finished the sentence before Noctis is reaching his arms around him, tugging him close. Wordlessly, almost helplessly, Prompto sinks into him, fingers hooking into the back of his shirt, burying his face into Noctis’ shoulder. A sound escapes him then, strangled and aborted like a sob. Noctis holds on tighter. A heartbeat passes, and then, like chains struck open, Prompto cries and cries and cries. 

Gladio and Ignis hesitate for only a moment before stepping closer. Gladio has a hand on Prompto’s back as he shakes with sobs. His eyes are so, so tired. Ignis’ hand hovers uncertainly in the air before coming to rest in Prompto’s hair, brushing it back soothingly. Noctis just holds his best friend, feeling each quake and quiver, but also the warm tears staining his shirt and the pounding of a heart that is so very much alive.

He doesn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ SQUARE GIVE THESE KIDS THE HUGS THEY DESERVE ASLKDJFADJ; I WILL FIGHT


	3. you. me. movie marathon. get all the snacks you can carry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high school era ; canon-compliant

Noctis is in a bad mood today. 

Noctis has a lot of moods—he’s a moody guy, but in all the best ways, Prompto thinks. Noctis is quiet. Prompto thought it was because of his upbringing and always being in the public eye and all that, you know, having to always put on a front and never lose face, but the more time Prompto spends with Noctis, the more he realizes that Noctis is just... quiet. Almost shy, sometimes. He keeps most of his thoughts and troubles to himself, not wanting to bother anyone unless it’s necessary. Prompto can understand that. Maybe that’s why they click so well.

But Prompto is enough of a friend now that he can tell the difference between Noctis’ silence. And today, Noctis’ head is tilted down, eyes hiding behind his long bangs, the corners of his mouth pulled downwards like it’s too much effort to keep up. Today, something is bothering Noct, and all Prompto wants is to make his best friend feel better.

“Aha!” Prompto exclaims, suddenly stopping in his tracks. Noctis bumps into him, and there’s more than a couple dirty looks thrown their way as the busy intersection is forced to part around them. “I have a brilliant idea!” Prompto says, unperturbed. 

He proceeds to drag Noctis down the streets, ignoring his friend’s half-hearted protests. They cut across from the shopping mall near the train station, ducking past the arcade they usually camp out at after school. There are students in uniforms hanging out by the fast-food chains, people in business suits speed-walking by on their cellphones, old couples slowly making their way home with groceries in hand. Prompto is so intent on reaching their destination, he doesn’t even stop to point out every single dog that passes by. He finds the place he’s looking for and pulls Noctis inside, waving his arm in a grand gesture of  _ ta-dah! _

Noctis frowns as he blinks against the bright lights against white tiles. “Your brilliant idea is... to go to the convenience store?”

“No! Well, yes, but it’s so much more than that.” Prompto hops in front of Noctis and holds his hands out. “Okay, just hear me out. It’s Friday night, right, and you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow morning, right?”

“Yeah...”

“And you said Iggy isn’t coming over until Sunday, right?”

“Right...”

“So, I’ve come up with the perfect plan: You. Me. Movie marathon. What do you say, buddy?”

Prompto stares hopefully at his best friend as he considers. “Any movie?” Noctis says.

“Any movie,” Prompto promises. “I’ll even sit through those deep sea documentaries that you like so much.”

Very slowly, frown fading just the slightest bit, Noctis nods. “Yeah,” he says, “that sounds good.”

“Yeah?” Prompto beams. “Then grab all the snacks you can carry, Noct, it’s going to be a loooong night.”

(They end up with fourteen bags of chips, four of which are those family-sized ones, seven bottles of soda and flavoured fruit teas to mix things up, eight packs of candy including chewy and sour, and three chocolate bars. The trip back to Noct’s apartment is a long and giggly one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still so ??? [vague gestures to the thriving city of insomnia before all the Bad Shit happens] at the fusion of _fantasy_ fantasy kingdom and the modern day japan feel of the city, plus all the american road trip feel past the wall, not to mention the rest of eos and all the mishmash of scenery and feel, and it can be disjointed and honestly downright weird but i just!!!! want to explore that so much


	4. join me in the pillow fort. we play until dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post-high school, pre-road trip from hell
> 
> disclaimer: i've never....... experienced a pillow fort.......

When Noctis lets Prompto into his apartment, he’s surprised to find it dark. The blinds are open, but it’s late evening now, so the only light source is from the cityline outside the window. It’s pretty, and it makes Prompto sleepy, especially after an eight-hour shift today.

He follows Noctis into the living room, and halts, mouth open. The usual spacious living area is taken over by fluffy blankets and bedsheets and pillows. The bar stools have been dragged over to elevate the sheets, allowing them to hang over from the couch loosely. Something’s glowing in there, and it all looks so comfortable Prompto is gravitating towards it before he realizes.

“Dude, what’s this?”

Noctis gives him that smile of his, the nonchalant tilt of his lips and the soft blue eyes, the very picture of being content where he is. “Join me in the pillow fort, Prompto. We play until dawn.”

It takes a bit of maneuvering and shuffling with their awkward limbs and the multitude of pillows—Prompto doesn’t remember ever seeing this many pillows in one place in his life—but eventually, they find a position where they’re both comfortable and settled within the blankets.The soft glow of the screen in front of them makes it feel as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist, and it’s just the two of them, Prompto and his best friend, curled up close enough to feel the other’s body heat. Prompto likes it. He likes it a lot.

“I’ve never been inside a pillow fort before,” he says some time later. They’re deep into story mode for the latest RPG on the market. It’s an interesting plot line, but the more they unlock the map, the more sidequests they encounter. There are a lot of sidequests.

“Never?”

Prompto shrugs. “My guardian’s place isn’t really the most comfiest place, you know? And I guess I’ve just never had anyone to build a fort with.”

Noctis stays quiet for a while, eyes on his avatar as he hacks away at a pixelated monster. Then he says, “My first fort was with Specs, when I was eleven, just after I... after I came back from Tenebrae.”

He seems to trail off a bit, eyes growing distant with a bad memory. Prompto doesn’t comment on it. “Really? Iggy?” he says incredulously.

“Yeah. He only ever allows it on what he calls special occasions, though. Usually when there’s important stuff going on in the Castle or when I’ve had a bit upset.”

“Aww, Iggy does care.”

“He does,” Noctis agrees. He shifts until he’s flopped over onto a pillow, head next to Prompto’s side. “He’d make hot chocolate and lug in half the library. He has a nice reading voice, you know? And sometimes Iris would join us. Once, we even managed to convince Gladio to come into the fort with us.”

Prompto giggles, imagining the huge stature of the guy squeezing into a pillow fort. “How did that go?”

“The fort lasted about ten minutes before collapsing. Gladio and Iris’ dad had to dig us back out.”

Letting out a graceless snort, Prompto gives up all pretense of holding in his laughter. He throws his head back, body shaking enough to make the entire fort wobble. Noctis swats at him and attempts to hold him still so they don’t become a pile of blankets and pillows. Prompto leans back into him, still laughing. Soon, they dissolve into a mess of giggles, limbs tangling and game controllers disappearing within the cushions and covers.

It’s so comfortable, Prompto wouldn’t mind staying inside this fort forever. Real life and future prospects and stupid prophecies can sort themselves out.

“You can’t just tell me that, dude,” Prompto says, still grinning. “Man, I wish I could’ve seen that sight.”

“Next time it happens, you should take a picture.”

Prompto’s eyes light up. “Next time?!”

“Yeah.” Noctis smiles back at him. “Now, are you gonna help me beat this boss or what?”

“Bring it on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignis checks on them in the morning and finds the fort collapsed and, like any good royal advisor would do, panics, quickly dragging them out before they suffocate ("can you imagine what the headlines would say? 'heir to the lucian throne dies from being smothered by his own pillows,' noct, could you at least try to give me less heart attacks")
> 
> noctis and prompto get to planning on how to make the biggest most badass pillow fort and how to rope both ignis and gladio into it; noctis even pulls out the physics formulas while iggy despairs at the prince spending this much effort on a _pillow fort_ instead of, idk, reading the user's manual on how to ascend a throne,


	5. it's cake, how difficult can it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre-road trip from hell, established relationship ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> disclaimer: i am a terror in the kitchen and the last time i used the oven, smoke literally came out of it. i didn't set it on fire, exactly, but i was pretty darn close. wild story, fond memory. pls use ovens at your discretion.

“You sure you know how to do this?”

“Yeah! It’s just cake,” Prompto says, waving a hand, “how hard can it be?”

Impossibly hard, it turns out.  _ Famous last words, Prompto. _

There’s flour everywhere, some actually turned into batter but mostly scattered across the floor, the counters, Noctis’ hair—there’s probably some inside their shirts, too, but Prompto doesn’t really want to find out. More than four eggs have had to be sacrificed because Prompto hadn’t realized that Noctis didn’t know how to crack an egg. He’s pretty sure there’s still egg yolk drying in his hair. Milk and vanilla extract is spilled by the sink, and there are traces of icing across the fridge doors—Prompto isn’t even sure how that happened because the cake isn’t even in the oven yet. He feels like he’s just run two full marathons, and yet only three hours have passed and all they had was a clumsily filled cakepan to show for their efforts.

“Is... it supposed to look chunky like this?” Noctis says, poking at the batter.

“Stop.” Prompto swats his hands away. “Can you check the instructions again?”

Noctis steps around a suspicious stain on the kitchen tiles. “Uh, Prompto?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t find the instructions.”

“What?”

They look at each other in horror and rising panic. Prompto stares at the oven light, which had gone out, indicating its reached the pre-heat temperature. He turns back to the cakepan. 

“Um,” he says. “Should we just...”

“I guess.” 

Prompto holds the oven door open while Noctis very carefully slides the cakepan in. They both stare at it for a moment, before the heat is too much and Prompto promptly slams the door shut. He sets the timer, and then steps back, oddly proud.

“There! That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Noctis wipes flour off his forehead. He glances at the mess around the kitchen. “I don’t know. Looks like something got murdered in here.”

Prompto winces. “I guess we can clean it up while we wait for the cake to bake?”

They do their best. Noctis directs Prompto to the closet where Ignis keeps all the cleaning stuff. It takes them a while and a lot of squinting to figure out which bottle does which and how to use them. Prompto can’t believe he’d ever reach a point where he would rather do math than read instructions. Somehow, they manage to clear the flour, swipe the counters, and put away the extra ingredients. The kitchen is starting to smell heavenly, and there’s only the mess stuck on themselves to take care of.

“C’mon,” Noctis says, and Prompto follows him into the bathroom. Thankfully, it’s big enough for the two of them, and they both crowd around the mirror, trying to determine the damage.

Prompto wipes sticky batter off his face. It smells good, but it feels kind of really gross. He makes a face as he rinses his hair.

“You’ve got stuff all over your shirt,” Noctis tells him.

“Oh, no,” sighs Prompto. He glances up at Noctis, whose hands have paused cleaning his own face and is starting not-so-subtly at Prompto. Prompto grins. “Are you saying that just to get me to strip?”

Noctis shrugs, but he’s smirking. “Oh, no,” he echoes, “you caught me.”

Giggles float out of the bathroom as Prompto’s shirt falls to the floor. He’s pressed against the wall, Noctis’ fingers gliding over his freckled skin and tickling him, flour still falling from Noctis’ hair. Prompto reaches up and wipes a finger down Noctis’ nose. He blinks. 

“Is this icing? How did this even—”

“Shush,” Noctis says, and then he’s pressing into Prompto’s space again, soft lips tracing the water droplets as they trail from Prompto’s wet hair down his neck. Noctis grins into Prompto’s skin when he makes a small, pleased noise.

They lose time this way, pressed into each other’s warmth and grinning softly to themselves as lazy fingers draw away the last of the disastrous baking attempt. Prompto likes how, this close, he can count each individual long eyelash Noctis has, how Noctis’ warm breath spreads blushes across Prompto’s freckled skin where he hovers, how he’s grown to associate gentle touches around his waist as comfortable, good, instead of terrifying and shameful. He breathes in the sweetness mixing with the scent of Noctis, something like rain and mint and the cool sleekness of his favoured cologne. 

Until he smells the smoke.

“Uh, Noct?” Prompto nudges his friend away. He tells himself to focus instead of getting lost in those hazy, mesmerizing blue eyes. “I know you know I think you’re hot and all, but I don’t think it’s to the extent of something  _ burning _ , you know?”

Noctis frowns, stepping back to sniff the air. A second passes, and then he’s staring back at Prompto with wide eyes.

“Oh, no,” they both say at the same time. “The cake!”

Prompto scrambles after Noctis as they run for the kitchen, where smoke is rising from the oven. The fire alarm is going off, beeping weakly. Noctis pulls open the oven, waving at the smoke. Reaching over, Prompto turns off the heat, and shoves open the window. He turns back warily.

“How... How bad is it?” he whispers.

Noctis stares up at him glumly. “At least it’s not on fire?”

Prompto bends over to peer into the oven. He cringes back. The cakepan is charred, the ‘cake’ inside lumpy and generally gross-looking. It looks like a monster trying to crawl out of the pan. He groans. “We can’t give Ignis food poisoning on his birthday!”

“No, we can’t,” Noctis agrees. “Even more so because he’ll just laugh at us. Or worse, cry.”

“What do we do now?”

Noctis sighs. “I’ll call Gladio to pick something up from the bakery down the street.”

“Good idea. I’ll clean this up.”

“Maybe you should put your shirt back on first.”

“Right, that’s a good idea, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompto's shirt is unsalvageable so he comes back with one of noct's shirt; gladio chooses a cake with a ridiculous amount of strawberries on it; ignis cries anyway, especially when he finds the Food Poisoning Cake in the garbage where noct dumped it, none of them has ever seen him display this much emotion or laugh this hard, prompto is too shocked (and lowkey insulted) to take pictures


	6. not-so-fluffy reincarnation au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was inspired by @sadistichanjizoe who wanted a fluffy reincarnation oneshot....... except this isn't really fluffy at all.  
> i wanted to try something here, though i'm not sure i managed to achieve it in the end? still, i DID actually have fluff in mind, so there will!! probably be a Part 2 kind of thing where it's actually reincarnation and actually fluffy, i promise
> 
> post-game ; canon-compliant

When the final battle is over, Noctis is adrift in hollow dark. 

He remembers fighting Ardyn, the warm strength of his friends behind him, echoes of the Astrals as they watch on, his father’s voice telling him to “walk tall, my son.” He remembers the long, long journey here. He remembers the pain of loss, the relief of the end. 

He doesn’t feel his friends anymore. He doesn’t feel anything. Noctis floats along in the endless night, watching distant stars wink at him, always just out of reach.

Is this... it? The end? 

Is this all he gets? After all this... Twenty years of his life. His entire life span, so short in hindsight, two whole decades amounting to... this. Fixing the mistakes the Astrals made, giving up everything and more, only to end up here. Nowhere.

Noctis closes his eyes. Maybe this moment of nothingness is a second chance. Maybe in this nothingness, he can find his own happiness. His own fate.

Maybe in another life, he isn’t a prince, but just a kid, growing up in busy Insomnia, rolling his eyes at his dad while secretly saving up enough money to buy his dad the watch he’s been eyeing every time they visit the shopping malls. He’ll meet Prompto in grade school, and this time he won’t have any reservations about approaching the shy blond with a point-and-shoot in his hand. They’ll become fast friends and he’ll learn how to put himself first, and years from now he’ll have crossed off more than half the things on his bucket list, at his own pace, on his own terms.

Maybe in another life, he’ll still be working at the fast-food chain down the block, and Gladio will be his brother for real and Iris his little sister, and they’ll walk home together after a long day, joking and laughing and all the good things. He’ll fill sketchbooks upon sketchbooks of the things that catch his fancy: city skylines, impossible skyscrapers, flowers in the park, the eccentric customers that come in his restaurant branch, the energetic photographer that comes in twice a week with a smile that puts the sun to shame. He’ll learn his name and Gladio will tease him but it doesn’t really matter when Prompto is taking his photograph and Noctis is painting the freckles on his skin.

Maybe in another life, he’ll head out on a road trip with his best friends Luna and Iris and Cindy, and they wouldn’t have to worry about pushing the car across the miles and empty miles when their car breaks down because Cindy knows her stuff. He’ll find Prompto in a small middle of nowhere town and strike up a whirlwind friendship. There won’t be a final destination on this road trip, no evil monsters and no daemon immortals to race. Only good times, sunshine, and knowing that home is always there waiting for him when he’s ready to go back.

Maybe in another life, he and Prompto will own their own chocobo farm, out in the middle of the forest where weary strangers stop by for a convenient ride and trade a story or two for a good meal. Ignis will still shake his head disappointedly at them when they mess with his food cart, but they’ll come back with packs full of amazing ingredients to return to his good graces. Prompto will want to name the farm something stupid like  _ Sunshine Ranch  _ or  _ The Best Chocoboys! _ or  _ A Little Piece of Haven _ and Noctis will roll his eyes but concede just the same. They’ll live forever and ever and raise so many chocobo children that Prompto’s laughter never fades away.

Maybe in another life, Noctis will meet Luna, a treasured family friend, and she’ll introduce him to her younger cousin, a shy bespectacled boy who wants nothing more than to take pictures for a living and share the beauty he finds through the lens. He’ll listen to Prompto talk about raising a family of dogs and which flowers bloom the best during which season, and he’ll take Prompto fishing and they’ll spend hours and hours just talking by the lake. Luna can travel the world and chase after her dreams, and Noctis and Prompto will giggle over the strange postcards and letters they find in the mail, sending back dumb selfies and blurry pictures of Umbra and Pryna.

Maybe in another life, Ignis and Gladiolus are still his friends, and Prompto, too, and when they set off on a road trip, it’s not because his father suggested him to, but because they’ve been planning this for ages, since Noctis entered high school and Iggy and Gladio were on the cusp of adulthood. He’ll convince his dad to lend them his precious Regalia, and Prompto will agree when Noctis asks him to come along. They’ll camp out in the hills and take pictures of impossible sunrises. Noctis will fish to his heart’s content and if he curls up just a little too close to Prompto at night, he can blame the close quarters of the single tent and the chill of night time in the outdoors. They’ll return home with souvenirs and enough photographs to make into an album on its own.  _ Volume I _ , Prompto will scrawl messily on the cover, and Noctis will shake the map out with his friends as they plan where to go next.

In another life, Noctis will be happy. He’ll make his friends and his family happy. And nothing, not the will of the gods nor the twisted hand of destiny can take that from him.

Noctis opens his eyes, and walks tall towards the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ideal situation: the chocobros take luna on their road trip and she kicks serious ass and they probably run into ravus at some point and challenge him to a chocobo race and iris is there, 
> 
> idk i just want to give all these kids a break, man


	7. fluffy reincarnation au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok here is the hopefully fluffier version of the reincarnation au (u can argue it is a sequel of sorts)   
> it's also 2k+ words b/c i have zero (0) sense of self control and i just. i just want to give these kids the happiness they deserve okay?? #letthemrest
> 
> i'm sorry if the latter half feels rushed; i've been doing fills for saso but i came back to these boys because i miss them so much

Noctis wakes to sunlight beaming down on his skin. He blinks at the brightness, and allows himself another moment of lying there in its warmth. 

He never sleeps with closed blinds. It’s a habit, ever since he was small, to always be able to find the sun when it rises over his window. His mother used to tell him about how the first thing he did when he was born was to turn towards the window, ready to greet the sunrise. It sounds romantic, maybe, but Noctis has been adamant to always have a window facing the east, to always wake to the sun. 

Now, he whispers good morning, and rolls out of bed.

 

 

 

Gladio is waiting for him when he finally makes it downstairs. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he says, sliding over a plate of toast. “Iris had to go early for club activities. If you finish this within five minutes I’ll give you a ride to campus.”

“Thanks,” Noctis replies sarcastically. Gladio just shoves him in the shoulder and continues fiddling with his phone. Texting some new girl he picked up at the bar last night, probably. It’s nice to know some things haven’t changed.

Noctis pauses, not sure why he thought that. It’s true there’s a ridiculous amount of familiarity he feels with Gladio and Iris, but they’re his cousins. He grew up with them. Of course they’re familiar. It’s just... sometimes. When he’s racing Gladio in a video game and shoving his elbows out of his face, or when he’s listening to Iris tell a story about the latest gossip in her high school, sometimes Noctis feels... nostalgic. Which makes no sense, because they’ve always been there and they always will be.

Shaking it off, Noctis crams the last piece of toast in his mouth and grabs his bag. Gladio laughs at the crumbs dotting his face. Noctis glares at him, but follows him out to his car, not looking forward to another day full of boring lectures.

 

 

 

Noctis yawns, filing out of the lecture hall. That was the longest hour of his life. He’s not even sure why he’s taking that class, it’s not a prerequisite and it’s certainly not interesting or an easy GPA booster. Maybe some gods up there decided he must suffer.

Noctis pulls out his phone, wondering if Luna isn’t too busy with her TA work to catch lunch with him when somebody crashes into him, sending his phone flying and his body onto the floor. He catches a glimpse of blond hair, freckles, flushed skin.

“What the—”

“Oh em gee, I’m so sorry!”

The guy clambers off him, scrambling to pick up the things he dropped. A camera, Noctis makes out. And a pair of glasses. The boy in front of him doesn’t even spare the frames a glance. He has his head bent over his camera, frantically checking for damage. He looks so worried Noctis can’t even find it in him to be mad. 

Picking himself up, Noctis grabs the glasses and hands it over. “Here, this might help.”

The boy takes it gratefully, blinking blue eyes as he fixes the black frames over his face. “Ah, thanks, man. This definitely helps.”

“Is your camera okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, you made a great cushion for it, aha.” The boy jerks his head up, peering at Noctis with concern. “You’re not hurt, are you? I’m really sorry for running into you, I should have watched where I was going, I’m a broke college student, please don’t sue me—”

Noctis blinks at the rushed words falling out of the boy’s mouth. “It’s fine. Really.” He finds himself forgetting the rest of his words, staring hard at the other boy. He’s dressed simply, in a leather vest and jeans so tight it looks like his second skin, a dark beanie hat shoved onto his head, trapping down his messy blond locks, and about a billion wristbands and bracelets dangling from his arms. Noctis has never met this boy in his life but somehow, something tugs at his chest about the careful way long fingers cradle the camera, the smattering of freckles sprinkled across pale skin, the sheepish but friendly tilt to those lips.

Meeting eyes blue in a way that’s unlike his own—almost violet, Noctis notes in wonder—Noctis is suddenly showered with a sense of overwhelming familiarity.

“Have we... met before?”

 

 

 

Noctis stares down at his languages homework. The letters swim in front of his eyes. Why is he taking a course on a dead language? Why is this course still being offered? Noctis doesn’t know. All he knows is that he can’t stop thinking about the boy that ran him over this afternoon.

He’s certain he’s never seen that boy before, not even in his classes, but there’s something undeniably  _ familiar  _ about him. It’s like Noctis can picture the expression on his face when he laughs, even though that’s a difficult thing to imagine on anybody. There’s a burning urge in Noctis to know everything about this boy.

Except Noctis is an idiot, because not only did he not manage to get the boy’s number, he doesn’t even know the guy’s  _ name _ .

Noctis groans, dropping his head onto the table. Something smacks him on the back of his head, and he groans louder.

“Up, Noct,” his tutor says, pushing up his glasses. “I’m not being paid to watch you powernap.”

“You’re not being paid at all,” Noctis reminds him. 

“Don’t remind me.” Ignis crosses his arms. “Well, since you haven’t been able to focus for the last half hour, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Sighing, Noctis sits back up. Ignis has been around almost as long as Gladio and Iris have been. His uncle is close to Noctis’ father, and since Ignis has always gone out of his way to look out for Noctis, asking him to spend a few hours each week tutoring Noctis is a no-brainer. Besides, Noctis trusted Ignis with his life. If Gladio is basically a brother from another mother, then Ignis is practically an adopted older brother.

“I met this boy,” Noctis begins, and Ignis’ face immediately clears into a sort of  _ Ah, I get it now _ expression, and Noctis almost decides to stop right there. He plows on, fixing his gaze firmly on his hands. “He ran into me today, and broke my phone too, but it’s fine, it’s just... I’ve never seen him in my life, but... But I feel like I know him? You know that feeling? It’s like... intensely strong.”

Ignis’ eyes are careful and quiet as they watch him. “Like you’ve been missing something you hadn’t realized you’ve been missing, perhaps? Yes, I do know the feeling.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Ignis uncrosses his arms, reaches for his mug of coffee. “When I met you, for instance. When I met Gladio.”

“Really?”

“Intense nostalgia and deja vu, correct? I’m sure you’ve wondered at the strange familiarity between us all. It’s not unheard of, Noct. I believe we might have met in another life, were really close friends. Or brothers, perhaps.”

Noctis considers this. Ignis’ words do resonate, even though he was really small back then. He thinks to the boy from earlier this day. He thinks about the tangy taste of nostalgia lingering on his tongue. He thinks about the relief of coming home after long road trip.

“Reincarnation,” Noctis says to himself. He thinks about those violet-blue eyes again. “Reincarnation,” he repeats, and something falls into place in his chest.

 

 

 

They’re late for brunch with Luna and her family, but for once it’s not Noctis’ fault. It’s Iris, who insisted on changing into another outfit and redoing her hair before they all piled into his father’s Regalia.

“It’s because Ravus will be there,” Gladio mutters to Noctis. They both pull a face at the mention of Luna’s grumpy elder brother.

The entire outdoor patio of the restaurant is booked for their brunch. There are three families here, and quite a few plus-ones, too. Luna waves at them from the far table, away from all the adults. Ravus is scowling from beside her, but there’s another person sitting with his back to them.

“When did you get a new brother?” Gladio says, plopping into the chair next to Ravus.

“Hello to you, too, Gladio,” Luna says. She waves Noctis and Iris over, and Ignis follows to sit beside Gladio. “Everyone, this is Prompto! He’s our cousin who was raised abroad. He’ll be living here from now on. Prompto also attends your school, Noctis.”

Noctis glances over curiously, and then everything stops. Violet-blue eyes meet his, recognition dawning. His hair is so much fluffier without the beanie, framing his freckled face just right, giving him a look that is like sunshine: both gentle warmth and blinding bright. 

“You’re the guy I ran over!” Prompto says, pointing at Noctis.

“He ran you over?”

“Uh,” Noctis says.

“I’m really, really sorry,” Prompto continues, clapping his hands together. “I kept thinking about it and I’m pretty sure I broke your phone? Please let me pay for the damages.”

Ignis raises his eyebrows. “So that’s why you weren’t answering your phone.”

“It’s fine,” Noctis says quickly when Prompto’s eyes grow round. “I was due for a new phone anyway. Don’t worry about it... Prompto.” The name rolls off his tongue so easily. So familiar.

Prompto breathes out a sigh of relief. “To be honest, I’m still paying the installments for my camera,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “So I probably wouldn’t have paid you back right away...”

“You’re a photographer?” Noctis asks. 

Prompto beams, and Noctis feels his entire body relax. Strange, but not unpleasant. “Yeah! I’m hoping to get in on the arts showcase next month...”

The meal passes quickly and comfortably for Noctis as he listens to Prompto talk about his art and his ideas. He finds himself answering Prompto’s own questions honestly like he almost never does. There’s something that comes so easy and natural about their banter. He likes watching the way Prompto’s eyes light up when Noctis asks a question in the little pauses between his chatter, as if he isn’t used to someone actually paying attention to every word. Noctis likes the way Prompto’s expressions play across his face like a movie when Gladio teases him or when Luna praises him. Noctis just really likes Prompto.

When they’re just about ready to go and Prompto is entertaining Iris and the others, Luna drifts over beside Noctis. “What do you think of Prompto?” she asks.

“I like him.”

“Good.” Luna’s eyes are soft as they watch Prompto gesture with his arms, Gladio roaring with laughter while Ignis and Ravus just looks confused. “Tell me something, Noctis, are you happy?”

Noctis pauses. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I am,” says Luna. “I’m lined up for a career I can’t wait to start, I have friends and family that love me and whom I love most dearly, and I have plans to see the world with a man I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with. I’m impossibly happy, Noctis.”

“I’m happy you’re happy.”

“I know.” Luna turns to him then, and Noctis sees both the childhood friend he’s always looked up to and the young woman she’s grown into. He thinks that maybe, once upon a time, he could have fallen for a girl like her, with a proud posture and eyes that sparkle like stars to guide you home. But right now, looking at Luna’s familiar, gentle smile, Noctis knows that she knows he loves her fiercely like a sister, and he finds his eyes prickling for some reason.

“Fate has been cruel to us,” Luna says quietly. “It’s time we make our own destiny and carve our own happiness in this world, don’t you think?”

Noctis follows her gaze back towards their friends, leaning against each other and laughing with their heads thrown back. There’s a warmth in his chest, and it burns like a campfire. 

“Yeah,” he says. “We deserve that.”

 

 

 

It’s not until years later, when Noctis is sprawled across Prompto’s lap on the bed, sorting through the postcards Luna had sent back from her trip, that he remembers that particular conversation. Luna’s always had her head in the clouds, like she knows more things than she is allowed to say, and she is determined to carry out her own plan, written in the stars. Noctis would believe her if she said she was a long lost princess with clairvoyant powers.

But the thing about her often cryptic and oddly motivating words is that they never really ring a bell until much, much later. 

Noctis is smiling at a photograph of Luna and Nyx on some foreign beach when Prompto’s hand stills in his hair, and he says, “Hey, Noct. Can I ask you something silly?”

“You once asked me if I could convince Gladio to lift you over his head singlehandedly, Prom. I doubt anything else you ask can be sillier than that.”

“Hey, that was a legitimate question! And you were curious, too!”

“Fine, fine. What is it?”

Prompto hesitates. He meets Noctis’ eyes, and even after months of learning to be Prompto’s friend and slowly growing close enough to pull off those dorky frames to see those beautiful freckles on his face, Noctis loses himself in those violet-blues every single time.

“Hey, Noct... Do you believe in reincarnation?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -ardyn is the weird uncle that comes and goes and no one knows where he is half the time, probably hiding in some savannah, exploring the world  
> -regis and clarus are literally so tight, man. they take "fishing trips" together, like allll the time  
> -prompto is supposed to be adopted in this life as well; take it how u will  
> -cor isn't mentioned but i've been riding on the Dad Cor train for so long, you better believe he's taking great care of prompto now  
> -i forgot about talcott and his grandpa, i'm sorry, but know that they are doing well; iris probably babysits talcott often  
> -i also didn't treat iris v well in this but she soon grows out of her phase of wanting to impress stupid boys and gets into field hockey so much, noctis and gladio automatically tense when she has a stick-like thing in hand  
> -fuc K i remembered what i wanted to add and it was the chocobros planning their own roadtrip to rival luna's long ass honeymoon
> 
> -also, crack idea i could never really let go: prompto and noctis were supposed to find a video game (probs prompto's roommate while they were hanging out at his dorm) that follows the protagonist, an exiled prince, and his BBFLs (best bros for life) as they travel around in a souped up car to defeat the evil overlord and reclaim the protag's rightful throne and also save the princess of a neighbouring kingdom, all that generic smooth jazz, and chocobos are involved of course, and prompto will go "hey wow doesn't this sound familiar even though this game came out like three months ago and i've never heard this franchise in my life??"  
> (i'm not funny, i know)


	8. oh my gods, just pet my hair already

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i skipped down the fluff prompt list b/c i got stuck  
> also i'm in great need of Extra Fluff so enjoy
> 
> high school era, pre-road trip from hell

Prompto yawns, stretching his arms. The afternoon sun streaming in through Noctis’ open window is making him really sleepy. He understands now why cats refuse to move from their spot when it’s sunny. 

“Stop yawning,” Noctis says, “it’s contagious.”

Prompto sticks his tongue out at him. “Funny coming from you, Prince of Naps.”

“Hey, I wear that title with pride.” Noctis doesn’t even look up from the documents he’s skimming through at Ignis’ exasperated request. He’s actually a pretty responsible guy beneath all that quiet apathetic appearance he likes to wear so much. Reading the fine print is definitely not fun though. Prompto definitely would rather change his name and flee the city than be forced to sit through piles and piles of paperwork like that every week. Thank the Astrals he’s not a prince.

As it is, Prompto lifts his phone again, scrolling through his apps list to find something to entertain him. He’d never give up an opportunity to keep Noctis company. It’s not like he would have had any other plans, anyway. Sure, sunny days like this is nice for a stroll through the city for photographs, but sometimes, sprawled across his best friend’s ridiculously comfortable bed with said best friend beside him like this is good, too.

When he’s unable to hold back his third yawn in the span of five minutes, Noctis shifts the papers off his lap. He gestures for Prompto to lie down. “Come here, you dork.”

“Eh? I’m fine...”

“Prompto,” Noctis says in that soft way of his, the tone he uses when he wants something and he wants Prompto to give in and he knows that Prompto will give in because he’s whipped as heck.

Prompto shuffles down the bed until he’s on his side, head settled on Noctis’ thigh. It’s not like he hasn’t done this before. It’s just usually the other way around. But Noctis’ lap is comfier than Prompto expected, and soon his eyes are slipping shut of their own accord. 

“How much longer do you think you’ll need?”

“Mm... maybe an hour. I can do the rest tomorrow.”

“Cool. Wanna go get nachos later?”

“You’re addicted to their hot sauce, aren’t you?” Noctis pokes him in the nose, and Prompto laughs, reaching up to grab at his hand. “Sure. Why don’t you text the others to see if they’re down?”

“Okay~” Prompto sings. He rolls onto his back and holds his phone above his head, tapping away at it. He’s just pressed send when his fingers slip, and the phone tumbles down. It hits him right in the face. 

There’s a moment of shocked silence as he stares up at Noctis and Noctis stares back at him. Then Noctis, the worst best friend in all of Eos, bursts out laughing, so hard that Prompto has to lift his head away from his legs. He frowns, punching Noctis in the side.

“It’s not funny, you jerk!”

“Dude, it really was.”

“Loser.”

“You’re the loser.”

They settle back down eventually. Prompto tosses his phone to the side, shifting his head into Noctis’ lap again. He sees Noctis’ free hand hovering beside his head. His face is tilted towards the papers he holds in his other hand, but he’s doing that thing with his lips, rolling it between his teeth uncertainly, a habit he picked up from Prompto. 

“Oh my gods,” Prompto says, smirking when he meets startled blue eyes, “just pet my hair already, Noct.”

He probably should have expected the smack on his face, but then Noctis’ fingers are in his hair, and Prompto kind of forgets everything but the soothing sensation of someone stroking his hair. His eyes fall shut again. He doesn’t fight it. There’s a rustle of paper above him, the warmth of sunlight on the lower half of his body, and the steady rhythm of his best friend’s breathing. Prompto focuses on the fingers running through his hair, and when he starts to doze off, he does so with a small smile on his face.


	9. THIS MOVIE MAKES ME CRY EVERY TIME, WHY DID YOU LET ME CHOOSE IT?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high school era

They’re an hour into the movie when Noctis hears the first sniffle. He glances to his right, and sure enough, Prompto has tears sliding down his cheeks. His cheeks are flushed and Noctis can see his lower lip wobbling the way it does when he’s trying to hold it in.

Noctis nudges his best friend. “Need a tissue?”

“Noct!” Prompto blubbers, wiping tears away with his palms. Noctis hands him a tissue anyway, and Prompto honks into it, still crying. He flops back against the couch, half his weight on top of Noctis. “Ugh, don’t look at me, I’m all gross.”

“Like I’ve never seen you bawling like a baby before.”

“Shut up!”

“Wipe your snot, loser.”

Prompto does, and Noctis hands him the tissue box. He politely averts his eyes as Prompto blows his nose. Prompto’s an ugly crier. His pale skin goes all blotchy, freckles fading while snot and tears stain his face. His nose scrunches up and his eyes squint into slits, and he’d make a pretty funny sight except the way he sniffles and wipes at his tears is honestly too pitiful and Noctis can’t help the twinge in his chest whenever he sees Prompto like this. Prompto whines a lot but he rarely cries for real when he’s in public. Sometimes Noctis wonders if he’s lucky to even be able to witness Prompto’s ugly crying face.

“This movie makes me cry every time,” Prompto wails, “Why did you let me choose it?”

“You know I always give in to you,” Noctis says, and snickers when Prompto’s face goes even redder. “It’s a good movie, Prom. Even if the chocobo dies in the end.”

“SHHHH! We’re not at that part yet!”

“You’ve watched it seventeen times, Prompto, you know how it ends.”

Prompto beats his fists on Noctis’ thigh. “Still!”

Catching Prompto’s hands, Noctis tugs until his friend lands on top of him. Prompto buries his face into Noctis’ shirt. It’s still a bit wet, but Noctis doesn’t mind. He places a hand on Prompto’s hair, and ruffles hard.

“Noct!” Prompto’s voice comes out muffled. He doesn’t move away, though.

“Are you done bawling yet?”

“No!”

“You big baby.”

Prompto wiggles until he frees a hand to slap Noctis’ side. “I’m not a baby.”

“Yes, you are,” says Noctis, leaning down to rest his chin on top of Prompto’s hair. “But you’re my baby.”

There’s a brief silence in which Noctis smirks at the tv screen while Prompto attempts to melt into Noctis’ shirt. The tip of his ears are a heated red. It’s adorably endearing. 

Prompto finally gathers himself a few minutes later, shifting until he can see the screen again. Noctis refuses to let him go, so they sit sprawled across the couch, limbs tangled and sharing warmth as natural as breathing. More sniffles follow as the movie winds down after the emotional climax. Noctis has to admit that even he has trouble pretending not to tear up on this one. 

He nudges Prompto’s soft hair with his cheek. Prompto headbutts him lightly in the chin, slipping his fingers in between Noctis’ own and squeezing. Noctis squeezes back, and smiles.


	10. i had a nightmare... stay up with me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saso has been kicking my ass but it's 3 am and i find myself missing these boys............,
> 
> canon-compliant ; high school era

Prompto jolts out of his nightmare violently, limbs flailing and gaze swinging blindly. It takes him a moment to remember that he’s sleeping over at Noct’s again. The room is brighter than his own because Noctis likes to keep his blinds half-open to let the starlight through. He closes his eyes as he takes shaky gulps of air, blinking them open only when the roar of blood rushing in his ears has died down.

He makes out the hazy outlines of Noct’s living room. There’s the kitchen, kept immaculate even when Ignis isn’t here. There’s the wide screen television they only use for video games and movie marathons. There are the bar stools by the counter where they ate their dinner earlier that evening. Prompto rubs a hand over his eyes, and breathes out.

The residual fear and anxiety from the nightmare doesn’t fade. He can’t remember the details of the nightmare, only that it’s a familiar one. Something he doesn’t really care to remember. Prompto sighs, rolling over on the couch. They have school tomorrow. He should try to go back to sleep.

And he does try. But he knows by now, it doesn’t work. 

With a huff, Prompto reaches over for his phone on the coffee table. Then he remembers it’s charging over by the tv dock. He sighs again, dragging out his breath until he’s slid half off the couch. This sucks. Why are nightmares a thing? Why can’t he just knock himself out and be done with it?

He wonders if Noctis has any sleeping pills.

Prompto stands from the couch, blanket wrapped around him. He intended to look in the bathroom, but his feet stops in front of Noct’s bedroom door. It’s open halfway, the way it always is when Prompto is over. Prompto always keeps his own door closed. To keep out the noises and light from outside, he reasons. But also, maybe, probably, so he can pretend that he’s safe in his little matchbox of a room, so he can pretend that the rest of the house isn’t as unforgivingly empty as it always is. Noctis isn’t like that, though. He can sleep through anything, but he likes hearing movement in the other rooms, in the streets below. So even as he dreams, he is watching over his city, his subjects.

Prompto hesitates. He pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders. His heartbeat has slowed to a somewhat normal pace by now, but he still feels cold and unsettled. Prompto pushes open the door, and peeks into the bedroom.

Noctis lies on his back, his covers almost covering his entire head. The bed looks almost too big for him. Without realizing, Prompto has already crept forwards, footsteps silent across carpet floor as he moves towards his friend. He stops next to the bed, peering down at Noctis. It’s not creepy, he tries to convince himself. He’s seen Noctis asleep all the time. Sometimes Noctis even falls asleep  _ on  _ him. It’s not creepy.

“Noct,” he whispers. When Noctis doesn’t stir, Prompto bites his lip. This is stupid. He shouldn’t bother his friend. But his feet refuses to move, and there’s a prickling at the back of his eyes. He blinks, hard, tilting his face up to the ceiling. Still, a sniffle escapes him.

“Prom?”

Startled, Prompto glances back down to find Noctis squinting up at him. He hurries to swipe at his eyes. “Sorry!” he says, “I didn’t mean to wake you—”

“It’s okay,” says Noct. He pushes himself up, rubs a hand over his face. “What’s up?”

Now that Noctis is actually up and looking expectantly for an answer, Prompto feels silly. This is stupid. He’s stupid. Sure, he’s had nightmares before, and sure, he’d always wished he could wake somebody up but now that that’s actually happened, he’s. He’s at a loss. He’s being silly, what’s a grown teenager doing, unable to sleep because of a stupid nightmare. And on top of that, bothering his best friend? Stupid.

“Prompto?” Concern has crept into Noctis’ tone. He reaches out and takes Prompto’s hand. He tugs gently until Prompto is sitting on the bed. “Hey, you okay?”

Prompto nods reflexively, and then he stops. He shakes his head. “I, uh. Hah. I just... had a nightmare. And I thought—I wanted—I don’t know, I just... Can you stay up with me?” Before Noct can answer, Prompto is shaking his head again. “No, never mind, that’s selfish of me, you—we have school tomorrow, I woke you up, sorry—”

“Prompto.” Noct’s voice is soft with sleep but also something else. Something Prompto still isn’t used to. “I don’t mind.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah. Besides, I can always nap at school. It’s not like they’ll scold their prince.”

Prompto huffs out a laugh, still trembling slightly. “That’s an abuse of power, Noct.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep me in check, then.” Noctis scoots over and pats the space beside him until Prompto crawls over. He slumps against his best friend, and Noct pulls the covers over them both. “Wanna talk about it? Or do you wanna hear a bad joke?”

“Bad joke that you saw on the internet or bad joke that Gladio told you?”

“You know Gladio jokes are awful, you sure you’ll be able to sleep after that?”

They snicker, heads leaning in together. Noct is warm against Prompto’s left side, and he sinks into the comfort subconsciously. The restlessness in his chest from the nightmare has already faded into a memory. Noctis’ bed is so much larger than the one he has in his own bedroom, but with the familiar feeling of his best friend beside him, Prompto can feel his heartbeat slow down to a calm state, his eyelids grow heavy, his hands stop shaking. He leans his head on Noct’s shoulder, and lets the soft rumble of Noct’s voice wash over him.

(He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the next morning, Prompto wakes to sunlight streaming in onto the bed and Noctis sprawled on top of him, their limbs tangled together and his left arm dead and tingly from the weight of his best friend. He shoves Noctis off him, and they dissolve into a sloppy half-asleep fist-fight until Prompto rolls unceremoniously onto the floor. He doesn’t think about his nightmare at all.)


	11. #justlittlepromptothings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been screaming about prompto on twitter for the past few days so have this extremely self-indulgent sappy mess
> 
> alternatively, a list of things about prompto that noctis loves, so very much.

Sometimes Prompto lets Noctis use his camera. Only very occasionally, rare enough that Noctis can count the times on his hands and still have fingers left over. It’s not that Prompto doesn’t trust him with the camera—to an extent—it’s just that Prompto prefers to be the one behind the lens rather than in front of it. His selfies are few and often only because there’s someone else in the frame with him. Prompto has pride in his ability to manipulate the camera to his every whim, but less so in his capability as a subject.

Noctis thinks it’s a shame, really, because Prompto is the most photogenic person he knows.

Prompto’s hair is the colour of sunlight in the early mornings, when the sun’s just kissing the horizon and everything is blinding silver-gold. When the light hits it just right, Prompto almost looks ethereal, fey-like. A halo crowning his head. And Noctis knows from experience that the blond hair is soft, maybe even softer than the chocobo down it looks like. He likes running his fingers through Prompto’s hair and watching the other boy’s eyes slip shut at the sensation.

Prompto’s pale skin is constellation after constellation of freckles, scattered across the bridge of his nose and spreading out from his cheeks. It fades, depending on the season, but Noctis can picture every single one when he closes his eyes. He loves discovering new ones, fingertips tracing through them, from Prompto’s shoulder blades to the small of his back, down his collarbones and along both his arms. Prompto complains about being unable to tan properly, but Noctis can’t say he minds when he’s chasing skin-stars with his lips.

Prompto’s eyes are the bluest hue Noctis has ever known. His own eyes are dark, murky in its depths, like the colour of the ocean at night. But Prompto’s eyes are clear skies, a refreshing cerulean when he’s happy. And Prompto’s eyes are electric blue, near violet when he’s thinking hard in that quiet way of his, when he’s looking over at Noctis and leaving Noctis breathless so effortlessly. Noctis is almost afraid to meet Prompto’s gaze sometimes because he might just fall in, but he does anyway. He can never quite find it in himself to look away.

Prompto’s smile is like warm summer days, like the ones back when Noctis was still little and naive and hadn’t realized yet the weight the title of ‘Prince’ can hold, those sunny days when his father would pack them up in his precious car and they’d drive out to the lake and spend hours fishing, away from the Castle and stuffy royalty things that Noctis has always resented for stealing his father away from him. Prompto smiles with his entire face, lips stretched wide and eyes turning into half-moons, freckles disappearing into the happy crinkles. It’s contagious, just like the sound of his laughter, bright and bubbly and always making Noctis think sappy things that even Gladio’s stupid romance novels can’t fathom.

Prompto tastes like sunshine in human form: the earthy scent of heat and sweat on his skin, healthy and warm and  _ boy _ , a sweetness like those custards Ignis denies he likes even as he continues to restock them in Noctis’ fridge, a salty tang that goes along with the hum of blood running through his veins, so very steady and alive. Noctis was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a tongue exposed to only the finest foods all of Lucis has to offer, but the only flavour he has ever fallen for is definitely Prompto; his always slightly chapped lips, his soft skin that blushes like watercolour sunsets blooming, his comfortable warmth like a familiar campfire.

Prompto is a study of endless sunrises, and Noctis is content to spend the rest of his days waking up to him—his best friend, his brother in arms, his safe haven, the daybreak after his long, long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i, too, like noctis, would die for prompto argentum, the best chocoboy, sunshine incarnate, who only deserves all the hugs and love and wonderful chocobo friends,
> 
> edit: there's a few callbacks in this one to another fic of mine so here's a shameless promo, pls go read my [other mess of promptis feels](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10846281) (and a happy ending!!)


	12. wait, i'll do it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> early road trip days probably

Ignis let them head into the hotel room first, dragging Gladio off to grab dinner and stock up on curatives. Prompto follows Noctis to their room, too tired to keep a conversation going. His feet drag on the carpeted floor.

Noctis isn’t doing much better. He jabs the key into the doorknob, the door frame, and finally the door itself before he finally manages to find the keyhole. Prompto already has his eyes closed, leaning against the door. He stumbles when Noctis pushes the door open, and they both nearly go down in a tangled heap.

“First shower,” Noctis calls, and Prompto groans loudly, but lets him anyway.

He flops onto the floor, not wanting to dirty the clean hotel beds. He’s so grateful they’re in a hotel tonight, with actual beds and showers and  _ pillows _ . They’ve been completing hunts and bounties for the past few days. Prompto doesn’t really mind; it’s fun and he sort of enjoys the exercise, but it gets  _ tiring. _ He doesn’t even realize he’s drifted off until Noctis come back out of the bathroom and swats him on the head. Prompto gathers his things with barely open eyes and wanders into the shower.

When he comes back out, he feels slightly more alive. His skin is warm and clean, and he smells a little like the little lavender soap the establishment provides. He shoves his limp hair, still wet, out of his eyes.

Noctis is sprawled on his side across the bed, phone out and busy scrolling away. It doesn’t look like the others have returned. Prompto sits on the edge of the bed, nudging at Noctis until he rolls over slightly. 

“You mind if I use the hair dryer?”

Noctis peeks over his phone at him. “Wait,” he says, sitting up. “I’ll do it.”

Prompto plugs in the dryer and hands it over. The bed bounces slightly as Noctis climbs over to sit behind him. Then the noisy whir of the machine drowns everything out, hot air blowing at Prompto’s head, and fingers running through his hair, untangling the knots as they go. Prompto’s eyes slip closed, and he can feel himself being lulled into sleep.

The hair dryer turns off, and Prompto blinks his eyes open. He’s leaned back against Noctis’ chest without realizing it. Noctis’ hand is still in his hair, and Prompto tilts his head when he feels fingers trailing down the back of his neck.

“Done,” Noctis murmurs above him.

“Mm,” Prompto replies.

The hair dryer falls onto the bed with a small thump, and then Noctis is burying his face into the crook of Prompto’s neck. His arms loop around Prompto’s middle, tight enough that Prompto instinctively reaches up to pat Noctis’ head. 

“You okay?” Prompto says, turning his face towards his friend.

Noctis nods, and Prompto holds back a shiver when he feels Noctis’ lips brush against his bare skin. Then Noctis pulls back. He makes a quiet considering noise. “Huh. You have a few moles here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Noctis presses a finger near Prompto’s shoulder blade. Prompto does his best to hold himself still. “They kind of look like a lopsided smiley face.”

“What? No way.”

Noctis traces out the smiley face, and Prompto can’t help it—He lets out a squeaky little giggle. He doesn’t have to turn around to see the crooked grin spreading across Noctis’ face. Barely a second later, Noctis’ fingers are digging into his sides, and Prompto is howling, muscles protesting as he twists and squirms under Noctis, trying to escape from the tickling. Noctis is laughing, too, and at some point the hair dryer and most of the pillows land on the floor.

When Noctis finally relents, Prompto is lying on his back, limbs spread out and boneless. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath. Noctis isn’t that much better. He’s stretched out beside Prompto, messy black hair half-covering his face. There’s still a smile playing at his lips. He looks impossibly soft. Prompto’s reaching forwards before he can think about it.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” he says, brushing aside Noctis’ hair. He pauses when his eyes meet dark blue ones. Noctis’ eyes remind him of late winter nights, when the world retires early and the stars are the only witness to his insomnia.

“Might get Iggy to cut it,” Noctis mumbles. His eyes are slide shut, and Prompto watches his breathing even out. One of his arms is still slung over Prompto’s waist.

Prompto rolls over, shifting until he’s close enough to smell the soap on Noctis’ skin. He presses a small kiss on Noctis’ forehead, and then closes his eyes, following his best friend into dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignis and gladio comes rushing into the room twenty minutes later, panicking because neither of them were answering their phones about _food orders_ , only to find these boys curled up against each other like cats, ignis sighs and tucks them in so they don't catch colds, gladio just shrugs and says, "idiots don't catch colds. hey, you wanna take the fish burger while noct's still asleep?" (to which ignis replies, "yes, we should take the chance while noct is still....... knocked out," and noctis does a strange huff in his sleep like something just offended him greatly)


	13. soft kisses shared

They’re lying across Prompto’s bed, because his room is the only place in this house that doesn’t feel like an unwelcoming, empty hole. Prompto scrolls along on his phone, idly checking his social media accounts while his other hand strokes Noctis’ hair. His friend is sprawled half on top of him, face buried in his chest, fingers hooked onto the hem of Prompto’s tank top, breathing deep and slow. 

Today is a bad day. When Prompto came home from a tiring shift this evening, he found a lethargic and silent Noctis on his doorstep, too tired to even hold himself up properly. He helped his friend inside and managed to get enough words out of Noctis to piece together that he woke up in pain, Ignis is busy at the Citadel today, and he doesn’t want to bother anyone. He just wants quiet. And Prompto’s company.

So Prompto heated up some soup, and they ate a quick meal in the kitchen. Noctis didn’t manage to finish his portion. Prompto downed his own bowl, and proceeded to tug Noctis into his bedroom.

Now they lie against each other, sharing warmth and matching heartbeats. Prompto can feel weariness in his bones from working all day, but he doesn’t want to fall asleep yet. Not when his friend still needs him.

Noctis shifts. His arm shakes slightly as he pushes himself up. Messy strands of hair hang over his eyes, and soft hisses of pain escapes his lips as he struggles into a sitting position.

“Noct,” says Prompto, putting down his phone. He reaches for his friend. “Hey, talk to me.”

“Hurts,” Noctis grunts. He lifts his head enough for Prompto to see pain-hazed eyes. “Sorry.”

Prompto lifts his hands and cups them gently around Noctis’ face. He rubs a thumb along the proud jaw, tense and quivering slightly. “Nothing to be sorry for, Noct,” he says. He runs a hand through dark hair again, and when Noctis releases a shuddering sigh, Prompto pulls his face forwards until their foreheads touch. 

Noctis’ eyes are closed. He breathes slowly, lips parted slightly. Prompto doesn’t know the pain he suffers from, but he knows from previous experience the moody silences and periodic inability to move. His muscles lock up, his brain is too tired, Noctis is hurting and Prompto wishes he can stop it. He’d gladly take on the pain if it would give Noctis a moment of relief.

Prompto leans forwards until his lips brushes against the other boy’s. Blue eyes blink open blearily. “Is this okay?” whispers Prompto.

He doesn’t receive a verbal answer, but there’s a slight nod of the head, and fingers digging into his sides.

Wordlessly, Prompto closes the space between them. He presses kisses all over Noctis’ face—on his nose, his eyelids, his cheekbone, the space between his eyebrows, his forehead, the corner of his mouth. He kisses Noctis softly, so softly, pushing gently against Noctis’ shoulders until he has him stretched out on his back, head nestled against the pillows. Prompto straddles Noctis with his legs, shifting his weight onto his knees and leaning over Noctis, hands on either side of Noctis’ head, caging him in safely.

“Okay?” he murmurs, and Noctis nods again. Shaking fingers have found their way to the bare skin underneath Prompto’s tank, and Prompto suppresses a shiver. He ducks down and captures Noctis’ lips again.

They stay like that for a long while, just kissing quietly, gently. Prompto presses open-mouthed kisses against Noctis’ skin, trailing down from his lips to his Adam’s apple to his collarbone, before making his way back up. Noctis is the one that slowly eases their mouths open, until tentative tongues search out each other, and Prompto lifts a hand to hold Noctis’ face, carefully, preciously. It’s warm and sweet and soft and comforting. Prompto takes in the quiet sigh that Noctis breathes out.

When they finally pull apart, there is more colour in Noctis’ cheeks. His eyes are still hazy, but less pain-ridden. He blinks, slow and sleepy-like. Prompto runs a finger down his nose. 

“Better?” he says softly.

“Mm.” Noctis tugs at him. His eyes are beginning to slip shut, breathing deepening again.

Prompto shuffles himself onto the space next to Noctis, making sure he’s not pinning any of the other boy’s limbs. He lies on his side, head tucked in beside Noctis’ shoulder. His left hand tangles itself with his best friend’s fingers. He casts one last glance up at Noctis, taking in the loose expression, the steady rise and fall of the chest. Tilting his head up slightly, Prompto presses one last kiss against the side of Noctis’ jaw, and then settles down, and goes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will i ever stop writing my faves falling asleep together............?
> 
> no. no i will not,


	14. in which luna breaks into noct's apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate universe where everyone lives and nobody dies and ardyn finds an interest in competitive fishing instead of fucking up everyone's lives (except he still drives noctis mad because ardyn is _really_ good at this fishing game and noctis will not let this guy win the Insomnian Fishing Championships again this year goddamit)

Prompto wakes with an unbearable urge to pee.

He untangles himself from Noctis—or tried to, anyway. Noctis tends to gravitate towards warmth in his sleep, which results in his limbs latching onto whoever he’s sleeping next to. Noctis also sleeps like the dead once he is comfortable. It takes Prompto two minutes and more than a few shoves before he finally manages to roll out of Noctis’ grasp.

Summer is just around the corner, but Noctis’ apartment is eleven floors up, and Prompto is only dressed in a pair of boxer shorts and a thin tank top. He shivers. But he’s only going to the bathroom, so he wraps his arms around himself and tiptoes out the door.

He makes it out of the bedroom and into the living area before he freezes. There’s a stranger standing by the eating table. Prompto barely registers the steamy plastic bags on the table. All he knows is that there’s a girl in Noctis’ apartment, and here he was, half-naked and goosebumps on pale skin, hickeys amongst freckles.

“Oh, hello,” the girl says. Her eyes seem to sparkle like clear summer days as she turns towards him. Noctis always tells Prompto that he smiles like the sun, but Prompto thinks Noctis is wrong because this girl’s smile is literally blinding him.

“H-Hi!” he squeaks. Then, forgetting about the pressure in his bladder, Prompto promptly whirls around and heads back into the bedroom.

He makes a beeline for the bed and starts tugging at the covers Noctis has burrowed himself in at the absence of Prompto’s warmth. “Noct,” Prompto hisses. “Noctis, wake up! There’s a pretty girl in your apartment!”

“Nrrrnngh,” Noctis replies. A hand sticks out and swats at Prompto, missing by many centimeters. 

“Noct, please,” says Prompto, totally not freaking out, “there’s a beautiful girl standing out there. Like she belongs here. And I mean  _ beautiful _ , I’m talking drop-dead gorgeous, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody that breathtaking before—other than you, of course, but that girl was like—like I’m afraid to even breathe the same air as her, because she’s too pretty—”

“Prompto.” Noctis finally emerges from underneath the covers, reaching out and grabbing hold of Prompto’s panicky hands. He squeezes them both and peers up at Prompto with bleary eyes. “Take a breath.”

Prompto does. He takes a couple more, just in case.

“Okay. Now, who did you say was in my apartment?”

“I don’t know!” Prompto explodes, “A really pretty girl! She-she’s like a princess, Noct, I’ve never seen a princess before—”

Noctis squints at him. Then his face clears, and he goes, “Oh, that’s probably Luna.”

Prompto blinks. He doesn’t even comment on how stupid Noctis looks right now, hair sticking up flat on one side and a faint trail of drool on his chin. “Luna? As in—Lady Lunafreya? The  _ Princess of Tenebrae? _ ”

“Yeah.” Noctis yawns. He makes to flop back over, but Prompto grabs him by the shoulders, and shakes.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum,” he hisses. “How come you’ve never told me Lady Lunafreya, Oracle of Eos, most beloved woman across the lands, has the key to your apartment?”

“It never came up?”

“I can’t believe she saw me like this,” Prompto moans, hanging his head. “It’s so indecent! She’s royalty! And here I am, a royal mess, dressed like a slob and—oh, by the Six, she saw me in my  _ chocobo boxers _ !”

“You never minded me seeing you like this.”

“Yeah, but you’re  _ Noct _ and she’s  _ Lady Lunafreya! _ ”

“Stop saying that!” Noctis shoves Prompto off the bed. “She’s just Luna.”

Prompto isn’t convinced. “But—she saw me coming out of your room like this, Noct, what will she think?”

Noctis rolls his eyes. “Luna doesn’t care. She’s not a gossip like you are, you loser. Besides, I’ve already told her what our situation is.”

When all Prompto does is just stand there with his mouth open, Noctis sticks out a leg and pokes him with his toes. “Hey. Didn’t you say you needed to pee?”

“Oh, right,  _ shit _ —”

 

 

 

 

After throwing on clothes and forcing Noctis to greet Lady Lunafreya properly, Prompto makes a mad dash for the bathroom. He takes care of his business, but spends a few more minutes in there, staring at his reflection and trying to keep his cool.

_ It’s just Luna _ , Noctis said, except Prompto doesn’t know what that means at all. ‘Just Luna’ to him is a regal figure dressed in white satin, standing before tens of thousands of people and speaking with a natural charming grace, winning hearts everywhere. ‘Just Luna’ is a bolded name in the headlines, an impossible ideal to even dream of. ‘Just Luna’ is the ridiculously beautiful and irreplaceable friend-shaped piece to Noctis’ heart.

Prompto splashes water on his face. His cheeks are still red, and because of his stupid pale freckled skin, the blush probably won’t fade for a while. He tries to pat down his hair and clear his eyes as best he can. Only when he’s managed to make himself look less like a constipated chocobo and more like a normal human being does he leave the bathroom.

Noctis is sitting down at the table with Lady Lunafreya. There are boxes and plates of what looks like breakfast items from the convenience store down the street, and Prompto has to spare a few moments to picture the Oracle stopping in a convenience store and lining up for the cashier. He shakes his head briefly before slowly approaching towards the table.

Lady Lunafreya notices him first, and she stands, smiling. “Hello again,” she says, “Sorry for startling you earlier.”

“O-Oh, no,” says Prompto, waving his hands, “that was—I mean, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“He means his chocobo b—” 

Prompto lunges forwards and slaps his fingers across Noctis’ mouth. He can feel his friend shaking from silent laughter under his hands. He scowls down at Noctis while Noctis just widens his blue eyes innocently.

Lady Lunafreya laughs, and Prompto whips his head up, Noctis completely forgotten. He’s never been particularly religious, but Prompto’s pretty sure that the sound of angels singing must be what the Oracle’s laughter is like. 

“I seem to recall Noctis in his moogle phase,” Lady Lunafreya says, eyes crinkling. “His entire wardrobe and room  _ had _ to be moogle-themed, or else he’d throw a fit.”

Prompto turns his stare back to Noctis. “Oh em gee, is that for real?”

“No,” frowns Noctis, but his nose is twitching, a sign of embarrassment. Noctis reaches out to poke at Prompto’s stomach when Prompto bursts into helpless giggles.

“I’m Luna,” Lady Lunafreya says, “I’ve heard so much about you, Prompto, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“S-Same here!” 

“You’re freaking him out,” Noctis says. He ignores Prompto’s protests and continues on, “You should have called me if you were coming.”

“Oh, I would have, but I really wasn’t planning on it. Then I learned that the meeting was to be postponed until further this afternoon, so I thought it’d be nice to visit. I’m just lucky that I managed to catch dear Prompto here as well.”

Prompto is blushing again, but then he registers Luna’s words. He turns to Noctis, and smacks him on the shoulder. “I thought you said you were free today!”

“Wha—I am!”

“No, you’re not! She just said there was a meeting today!”

“Well, she also said it was postponed, so.”

“Were you just going to wait for Iggy to show up and drag you kicking and screaming?”

Noctis frowns. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“You’re right, he’d have Gladio throw you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”

“That was one time!”

“And it was awesome, I still have the video somewhere—”

“I told you to delete it—”

Prompto and Noctis both look up from half-wrestling each other to find Luna with her hands clapped over her mouth, her entire body tilting downwards as she laughed. She seems delighted and thoroughly amused. Prompto exchanges a confused glance with Noctis. They untangle their hands, and Prompto steps back from where he had one knee on Noctis’ chair.

“You two really are close,” Luna says, eyes twinkling in mirth. “I’m glad.”

Prompto tugs at his wristband. Noctis scratches his neck, and then goes, very quietly, “Me, too.” 

Luna catches Prompto’s eye, and her smile widens. “Come,” she says, gesturing for him to sit. “Let’s eat before it goes cold. Tenebraen stores don’t carry the variety your Lucian stores do, you’ll have to introduce me to the things I bought, Prompto.”

Prompto beams. “I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noctis is wrong; luna does care about that kind of stuff though she doesn't care for gossip (but she will remember every detail you tell her so she can tease you later like the big sister she is)
> 
> ... and it's not explicitly mentioned or even really all that important but when noctis used "our situation" instead of "relationship" or whatever is because what i had in mind here was that they weren't... dating, exactly, more something like qp?? idk i wanna explore that better later


	15. please tell me why you were napping in my freshly dried laundry (while they were still in the dryer??)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre-road trip from hell, canon-compliant

When Noctis finally arrives back at his apartment, he spies Prompto’s beat-up boots scattered in the doorway. It’s a familiar sight by now, even though Ignis shakes his head exasperatedly every time, but it never fails to cheer Noctis up. He tosses off his own shoes and heads inside to find his friend.

Prompto’s not in the kitchen. Nor the living room. Noctis isn’t too worried, since his apartment is pretty spacious and Prompto is over often enough that he’s managed to pick up Noctis’ habit of impromptu naps. He shrugs off his jacket, calling out as he goes to change into sweats in his bedroom.

“Prom? I’m back, do you wanna order something to eat?”

There’s no answer. Noctis frowns. He goes to pull on a spare t-shirt, but his room looks a bit different. It’s still messy, books and bags and charger cords all over the place, but the clothes he usually tosses everywhere is missing. Noctis retrieves a new shirt from the closet, then goes on a hunt for his best friend.

“Prompto? I know you’re here.”

He checks under the blankets on his bed, but there’s no fluffy blond hair under them. He pokes his head in the bathroom, since he has, on a bizarre occasion, found his friend passed out in the bathtub before, but no luck there this time. Noctis wanders back through the empty living room and kitchen area before turning the corner into the little laundry and storage room. He stops in his tracks at the sight that greets him.

The door to the drying machine is open, Noctis’ empty hamper propped against the washing machine. A few of his jeans sit on top of it, and a few stray hangers lie next to it, as if someone was in the process of folding his clothes. Slumped on the floor and with his head half in the dryer is Prompto, glasses askew and limbs sprawled, face pressed into the freshly dried clothes.

“Prompto,” Noctis says, and he watches as his friend startles awake, head jerking up and slamming into the top of the dryer. He winces along with Prompto at the resounding bang.

“Ow owowow,” Prompto says. He carefully extracts his head from the dryer, rubbing at the bruise sure to form under his messy blond locks. He blinks up at Noctis. “Oh, hey, Noct. How was the meeting?”

“Fell asleep halfway through. Specs has to send over the minutes later but at least I showed up, right?”

“A rare occasion for you, Noct.”

“Shut up. What were you doing?”

“Huh? Oh.” Prompto glances around sheepishly. “I spilled juice on my shirt so I went to borrow a shirt—hope you don’t mind—but then I noticed your hamper was full so I thought I might as well do your laundry, too.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” says Noctis, but his mind is kind of stuck on the fact that he just noticed Prompto is currently wearing his clothes. It’s not like they haven’t shared clothes before. They’re about the same size, and ever since Noctis has managed to convince Prompto into sleeping over on late nights, Prompto has taken to borrowing Noctis’ clothes on the regular. Lately though, Prompto seems to have a thing for picking out Noctis’ sweaters, and Noctis has discovered that he really, really likes the sight of his best friend in his clothes.

“It’s fine,” Prompto is saying. “I kind of like doing laundry? It’s kind of... calming.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, folding the clothes, too.” Prompto picks himself up from the floor, running a hand through his hair. It sticks up even more. Noctis finds it incredibly endearing. “That’s weird, isn’t it, huh?”

Noctis shakes his head. “I don’t get it, but it’s not weird. But uh, why were you sleeping... in the dryer?”

Prompto’s face turns a pretty shade of pink. “I didn’t mean to! I just... it was warm... and we pulled an all-nighter last night... so...”

Noctis snickers. Prompto throws a pair of shorts at his head, still blushing hard. “Come on,” says Noctis, walking over to help him unload the clothes. “Let’s put this away so Specs can be amazed I did the chores for once.”

“Are you taking credit for  _ my  _ work, Noct?”

“I’ll treat you to that curry place you like if you don’t tell.”

“Deal,” Prompto says without hesitation. He pushes his glasses back up with his arm, and then smiles at Noctis. “Hey, Noct. Welcome home.”

Noctis smiles back. “I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> laundry is very calming for me so
> 
> also noctis and prompto pulled an all nighter to beat a record in king's knight, the nerds,


	16. you don't have to be ashamed of that, you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high school era  
> *astraphobia  
> edit: also was inspired by [this](http://abduction.ml/post/152693791195) but now i'm mad because i could have done better anD ADDED A DOG (will do next time don't worry)
> 
> what's up everyone i was on vacay on the east coast for a week and i really wanted to update but none of the prompts were working so i went with what i knew best: hurt/comfort cuddles  
> sorry if it's rough, my emotions have been all over the place lately  
> i hope y'all's doing good

When Prompto looks up from round forty-five of the latest game they’re grinding, the sky is dark and there’s a waterfall against the window. He can hear the winds howling from outside Noctis’ twelfth floor apartment.

“That looks bad,” Noctis says.

Prompto turns where he sits on the floor. Noctis has slid down so he’s basically half lying on and half hanging off the couch. He has his game controller settled on his stomach, eyes half closed because it’s too much effort to lift his head to see the screen. That position can’t be good for his back.

“Did you know there was going to be a storm today?”

“Nah. Forecast didn’t say anything either.”

Prompto tosses his controller to the side. “Ah,” he sighs, “I hope the trains are still working.”

“What are you talking about?” Noctis pushes himself up to look down at Prompto. “No way you’re going out there. Just stay the night.”

“You sure?”

“Of course,” says Noctis firmly. “You don’t like storms, right?”

A little surprised, Prompto nods. He’s not sure why Noctis would remember something like that, but it’s nice. And it isn’t like this is the first time he’d slept over at Noct’s. They’re good enough friends now that Prompto doesn’t need to go through an elaborate full-body check every time he enters the apartment building anymore, and Ignis has started buying enough food for an extra mouth. He still feel a bit like an intruder sometimes, but Noctis always assures him he’s fine. And for the most part, he is. Prompto has always felt comfortable in Noct’s apartment, maybe too comfortable. But neither Noct nor Iggy minded, so it’s fine.

“I call first shower,” Noctis announces, and then he’s off the couch and into the bathroom with graceful agility he rarely shows out of necessary training sessions with Gladio.

Prompto groans loudly. “Don’t take half an hour to shower, Noct!”

“I don’t take that long!”

“You spend forever in there, dude!”

“Shut up!”

Prompto sticks out his tongue even though Noctis can’t see it. He settles into the spot on the couch Noctis vacated, picking up the controller to play again. He’s thinking of which level he wants to replay when the noise outside picks up. Prompto whips his head towards the window.

The rain is coming down in earnest. The water sliding down the glass look like small rivers, obscuring the lights in the buildings across the street. Prompto can hear the wind slamming against the walls, and even though he knows that the building is strong enough to withstand it, he can’t help but shuffle backwards away from the windows. He stays like that, all scrunched up on one side of the couch, until Noctis finishes his shower.

Prompto has never run faster in his life.

He shuts himself in the bathroom for as long as he dared before Noctis would call him out. It’s just a storm. It happens. The Wall keeps out the daemons but bad weather is a necessary evil. And this apartment building is definitely a heck of a lot sturdier than his guardians’ place. Prompto’s survived through worse storms, and alone, at that. It’s just a storm. He’s fine. He is.

When Prompto comes back out, Noctis is waiting for him on the couch. He’s switched off the game and is lazily browsing through movies to put on. Prompto has barely taken two steps towards the couch when a crack of thunder sounds, and then the lights go out.

“Darn,” Noctis says, but Prompto doesn’t hear it. He launches himself across the room and onto the swarm of blankets on the couch. He ends up hitting Noctis, and there’s a few desperate seconds of squirming as they try to untangle their limbs from the blankets and each other. Prompto clings fast to Noctis as another clap of thunder comes from outside.

“Prom? Hey, you gotta let go of me or we’re both going to fall off.”

Prompto relents his grip, enough so they can shuffle themselves into a sitting position on the couch. He keeps his head down. Noctis must think he’s silly, freaking out over a power outage like that.

“Prompto,” Noctis says, and Prompto peeks up at him. He’s holding his phone up for light, and the blue glow throws shadows across Noctis’ face. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah!” Prompto says, “I’m great! I’m—”

Another boom of thunder echoes outside, and Prompto flinches. Noctis frowns at him.

“Come here.” He tugs Prompto closer, until Prompto is tucked against his side, still trembling slightly. Noctis rearranges the pillows and blankets until they are wrapped in what is effectively a blanket nest on the couch. “Okay?” he asks, peering down at Prompto.

“Yeah,” says Prompto, honestly this time. He sinks into the pile of blankets. “Sorry.”

“No,” Noctis says sternly. “I told you to stop apologizing for stupid things, or else I’m getting Gladio to take you for a round at the gym, remember?”

Sheepishly, Prompto nods. He presses his lips together to stop another ‘sorry’ from escaping.

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared of thunderstorms. You don’t need to be ashamed of that, you know?”

“I’m,” Prompto begins, but his voice is caught in his throat. He tries again. “I’m not—ashamed. Not that, I’m just... I didn’t want to bother you.”

Noctis tilts his head until he catches Prompto’s eye. Even in the dimness of the living room, Noct’s eyes are as vibrant and striking as always. Prompto finds himself holding onto his friend’s gaze. “You’ll never be a bother, Prompto.”

Thunder strikes again, and Prompto instinctively squeezes closer to Noctis. The sensation of another person’s warmth pressed against his side is the most comforting thing. Dropping all pretenses, Prompto turns and shoves his face into the soft fabric of Noct’s shirt. He feels Noctis’ arms wrap around him, Noct’s chin resting on his head. He’s never felt safer.

He closes his eyes, burrows into the comforting warmth of their little makeshift nest. Outside, the storm rages on, but here, Prompto allows himself to drift off in his best friend’s arms.


	17. so why did i have to punch that guy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high school era, like really high school, they're probably sixteen here

Prompto is just minding his business, fiddling with his camera as he waited for Noct to arrive when he hears someone call his name. He turns to find his best friend speedwalking furiously towards him, blue eyes wide beneath his bangs. 

Prompto starts to wave back, but something about Noctis’ expression seems... off. The corners of his mouth are dipped into a frown, and he almost seems to be glaring at Prompto. When Noctis is less than five feet away, he starts sprinting. Prompto steps back in alarm.

“Noct, what’s—?”

Prompto cuts himself off when he spots the shadow pursuing Noctis. They’re still too far away to make out any features, but when Noctis started running, the stranger did, too. Prompto’s not trained like Noctis’ many bodyguards, but his survival instincts are screaming, so he listens.

Noctis ducks behind Prompto just as the stranger reaches them. Prompto doesn’t pause to think. He raises his arm, tucks his fingers in tight, and delivers a firm right hook straight into the guy’s nose. The poor dude goes down like a sack of bricks. Prompto stares down at him, fist still raised in midair.

“Oh, Six,” Prompto whispers, horrified, “is he dead?”

Noct peeks out over his shoulder. “That was a brilliant punch. Gladio would be proud.”

“Noct! What if I killed him? I can’t go to jail, I haven’t even had my first kiss yet!”

“He’s fine,” Noctis says. He grabs Prompto’s wrist and steps around the prone form on the ground. “Let’s go before people start noticing.”

Prompto lets himself be dragged away, casting one last glance at the unconscious man they leave behind. Noctis keeps his fingers curled around Prompto’s wrist, striding forwards relentlessly. He seems less urgent than before, but no less rattled.

They hurry in silence through the familiar streets of Insomnia, ducking around teenagers out enjoying the weekend, families exiting diners, joggers taking a water break. Noctis tries to be subtle, but Prompto can see him glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. Prompto keeps himself on high alert, too, just in case.

Thankfully, Noct’s apartment is close. They walk past the guard on duty in the lobby with a brief nod. Prompto never ceases to be amazed by how fancy the apartment is every time he comes by. He knows that Noctis doesn’t really like the attention though, so he tries his best not to gawk like the commoner he is.

When they’re finally inside Noct’s apartment, Prompto allows himself to breathe out the tension he’s been holding since... whatever just happened. He hovers in the living area, eyeing Noct uncertainly.

“Is your hand okay?” Noct asks him. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Prompto lifts his hand and inspects it. It's smarting just a bit, his knuckles blushing red, and they’ll probably bruise for a day or two. He hadn’t meant to punch the guy that hard. But then again, Prompto hadn’t had an excuse to punch anybody, ever, so it’s not like he would have had a good judgement of just how much swing he should put into a punch—

“Let me see.” Noctis is in front of him before he can blink, tugging lightly on his fingers. He holds Prompto’s hand gently, running his fingertips over the darkened skin. There’s a frown pulling at his lips again.

Prompto tugs his hand back. “It’s fine,” he reassures his friend. “I mean, you should have seen the other guy.”

Noctis rolls his eyes. He steers them over to the couch.

“So, tell me, Noct,” Prompto says as he flops onto the cushions, “why did I have to punch that guy?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” says Noct. “The creep was following me around all day. Paparazzi trying to make some news, I guess. But I didn’t want to call the Crownsguard since I gave them the slip earlier, and then I saw you, so. Thanks.”

Prompto gapes at him. “Noct! You have a Crownsguard for a reason! What would you have done if I hadn’t punched the guy’s lights out!”

Noctis shrugs. “But you did. You could say you... ‘Noct’ him out...”

Prompto shoves him. The adrenaline in his bloodstream has calmed down now, but he still feels all over the place. He doesn’t want to think about what would have happened if that guy really was a bad guy after Noct, or if he was carrying weapons, or if there was more than one guy, like—gods, Prompto is just one kid. Today was a lucky fluke. If real trouble arises, he has no real means to protect his friend at all. 

“Prom?” Noct’s face looms into Prompto’s vision, blue eyes wide and concerned. Prompto leaps back against the couch. “Whoa. What’s up? Is your hand actually hurting?”

“N-No,” Prompto says. He fiddles with his wristband. “Hey, Noct... you think Gladio’s offer last time to train me was a joke?”

Noctis casts him a curious glance. “You’re actually interested? Gladio wouldn’t mind. It’s not like he has anything else to do with his time except exercise and flirt with girls at the mall.”

“He’s still doing that? Did he manage to score any yet?”

“Ugh, don’t ask me.” Noctis grabs the remote and leans back until he’s pressed flush against Prompto on the couch. “Just warning you though, Gladio’s a freaking  _ beast.  _ You better be prepared to keep up or die trying.”

Prompto pretends to flex his arms. “Keep up? Please, I’ll  _ set  _ the pace, Noct.”

Noctis laughs, and the sound brings a smile to Prompto’s face, too. “Good luck, you loser. Now, you wanna help me defeat this boss?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -the poor paparazzi guy wakes up and the 'net explodes with rumours that the prince's security detail is ridiculously OP, even his best friend is jacked up, don't piss with him  
> -noct could probably have taken care of the creepy dude but he's a kid so he panicked and could only remember ignis' voice telling him to _get away from the conflict and to safety first_ and after he also felt extremely guilty for putting his best friend in possible danger like that  
>  -noct totally got chewed out by iggy and the crownsguard for giving them the slip like that   
> -prompto almost dies the first time he joins gladio and noctis in a training session but he progresses really fast, gladio's impressed, noct is proud, prompto still kind of keels over thinking about how he vomited all over gladio's shoes that first time


	18. 2 am conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during canon road trip
> 
> this was extremely self-indulgent b/c i've been feeling really awful these past few days but yeah. you do matter. even if you don't feel like it sometimes, i hope you'll remember that you do, that someone loves you, and it's okay to take your time. you're doing great, sweetie

Noctis wakes to an empty space beside him. The tent is just barely big enough to fit four grown men, which means they sleep with sleeping bags shoved right up against each other, so it’s extremely cozy, like it or not. Noctis should be glad for the extra elbow room, but instead, he finds sleep rapidly draining away as he stares at the abandoned sleeping bag next to his.

As quietly as he can, Noctis untangles himself from his sleeping bag. Ignis is still on his back next to him, and Gladio only stirs slightly before rolling over. Noctis slips out of the tent and into the chilly night air.

“Prompto.”

His friend jumps, looking up from where he’s sitting at the edge of the haven, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. “Noct,” says Prompto, “what are you doing up?”

“That’s my line.” Noctis sits down next to Prompto. “You weren’t beside me. Got cold.”

“Sorry. You should sleep next to Gladio, then. The guy is practically a space heater all by himself.”

“And risk being deafened by his snores? No way.”

Prompto cracks a smile at that, but it fades quickly. He looks back down at the camera in his hands. He’s flicking through the photographs he’s taken of their journey so far. He does that, whenever they have down time, often showing the rest of them his best shots of the day. But recently, Noctis notices Prompto looking over his photographs almost obsessively.

As casually as he can, Noctis shifts over and nudges Prompto on the shoulder. “Nightmare?”

“Nah. Can’t sleep.” Prompto pulls his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. His gaze on the trees in the distance is tired. “It’s like, my body knows we’ve had a long day, and I know we need to wake up early tomorrow, but. But my head just...”

“Won’t shut up?”

Prompto’s lips twitch. “You really do get me, Noct.”

Noctis leans back on his hands. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not much to talk about. Just stupid thoughts, like usual. It’s nothing to bother you with, Noct, I already woke you up—”

“Hey,” Noctis interrupts, “I’m here because I want to be, okay? Don’t say it like you’re not worth this much—because you are. You’re my best friend, Prompto. You matter.”

“I don—” makes it out of Prompto’s mouth before Noctis cuts him off again, firmly:

“You do. You matter to me.” Quieter, Noctis adds, “You matter to Iggy and Gladio, too.”

It’s quiet between them for a second. Then Prompto goes, “I know,” in a really small voice, and Noctis wants to reach out and hold him and never let go. But Prompto is opening his mouth again, so Noctis stays still, and listens.

“I know that,” Prompto says, and his face is turned into his knees now, voice muffled. “I know I... matter. To you guys. I mean, why else would I have been asked to come along, right? I mean, you guys put up with me for so long. I know you guys are—my friends. I know that. It’s just. Sometimes, it’s... hard for me to—to  _ get _ that. And that sucks, and I know it makes you sad but I. I’m sorry.”

“Prompto.” Carefully, Noctis places a hand on his friend’s back. “It’s okay.”

Prompto makes a sound that’s suspiciously like a sniffle. Noctis keeps his hand on his back, moving in small circles. He’s not very good at offering comfort—that’s more Prompto’s field of expertise, but Prompto’s a little preoccupied right now. So Noctis tries his best.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says quietly. “It’s not your fault. You’re doing your best and that’s... more than we can ask for.” 

Prompto doesn’t reply, but the sniffling is louder now. His shoulders are shaking slightly. Noctis swallows the lump in his throat, blinks away the urge to cry himself. He’s not sure why, exactly, but he knows he wishes his best friend could see himself the way Noctis sees him: funny, kind, considerate, smart, beautiful. Perfect the way he is. As it is, he can only be there for Prompto when he needs it, just like Prompto never fails to be there for him. 

“C’mere,” he says, moving his arm over Prompto’s shoulders and pulling his best friend close. Prompto goes easily, burying his face into Noctis’ neck. He doesn’t make much noise other than the occasional sniffle. Noctis hugs him fiercely, a hand in the messy blond hair and the other rubbing soothingly up and down Prompto’s back.

“You’re fine,” Noctis tells him, “and you can take as much time as you need. We’ll be here for you, yeah?”

Prompto sucks in a shuddering breath. His hands squeeze at Noctis’ sides. But he nods, face still pressed against Noctis. His shirt is a little damp now, but neither of them mention it. 

They stay like that, holding each other, swaying softly in the stillness of the night, beneath the million distant stars. When Ignis finds them in the morning, sprawled on the floor and still tangled up together, he doesn’t say anything. Just tugs an extra blanket over them, and moves to get started on breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i'm always writing about ignis putting a blanket on these two sleeping boys....... they're going to catch a cold one day, smh......
> 
> edit: i realized i completely forgot prompto was holding his camera. it's gone now. good by e,


	19. don't mention it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre-road trip from hell;  
> just pure fluff to try and cheer myself (and hopefully you) up

Prompto is aware of someone’s fingers carding through his hair before he’s aware that he’s awake. He stays still, keeping his eyes closed, relishing in the soothing touch. 

“Prom?”

It takes him a few seconds to place the whisper. His head is foggy, a dull throb echoing through him, his entire body feeling too heavy and slow. Something shifts beside him, and he’s aware of the mattress he’s lying on dipping slightly.

Prompto opens his eyes. Soft sunlight streams in through the half-open blinds, but it makes his head hurt, so he shuts his eyes quick. He rolls over and attempts to bury his face into the warmth by his side.

There’s a huff of laughter above him. The fingers in his hair slides down to his nape, and Prompto shivers. 

“Good morning, Prompto,” Noctis murmurs.

Slowly, Prompto draws back enough to squint up at Noctis. “Wha?” he manages.

“You passed out for, like, fifteen hours,” Noctis tells him. His fingers are roaming through Prompto’s hair again, and it’s highly distracting, especially since Prompto isn’t entirely sure his head is screwed on right at the moment. “I had to call Specs to make sure you weren’t dying.”

“Nnnughhh.” Prompto rubs a hand over his face. He remembers feeling awful the day before, stumbling through his shift until his boss had enough and sent him home, throwing up on the way home and finally caving and calling for help. Everything after that was kind of hazy. Noctis must have picked him up and took care of him—Prompto does have flashes of showering and changing into Noct’s spare pajamas, being fed some bland soup-broth-oatmeal-thing, and then being dumped into Noct’s bed. He feels less like grilled roadkill but still a bit disoriented.

“You okay?”

“Mm.” Prompto tilts his gaze up to catch Noctis’ eyes. “Thanks. For, you know. Taking care of me.”

Noctis brushes Prompto’s hair out of his face. “Nah. I’m glad you’re feeling better. You had me scared for a while there.”

Prompto hums, shifting over and pressing himself against Noct’s side. Noctis’ bed is softer than his own, and for some reason Noctis likes to sleep with more pillows than one boy needs and his blanket is the fluffiest thing known to man, so it’s like sinking into a cloud every time. Prompto never tires of it. Especially when Noctis is right here with him, providing an almost irresistible warmth. 

“Do you want to eat something?”

“Maybe later.”

“And you’ve been calling me lazy,” Noctis teases.

“I’m not lazy,” Prompto says, “I’m sick, so I’m resting.”

Noctis laughs, and Prompto hides a smile in the comforter. The hand playing with the hair at the back of his head disappears and Prompto makes a questioning noise. Noctis lies down next to him, wiggles until Prompto shuffles over enough for him to burrow into the blankets, too. Prompto slaps a hand half-heartedly at Noct’s movements, screwing his eyes shut to stop the world from spinning. 

“Sorry,” Noctis says. A pair of lips clumsily presses a kiss against Prompto’s temple. Familiar arms find their way around Prompto’s middle, tugging him towards Noctis until they’re tangled up together in a comfortable position. Noctis has a hand in his hair again, and Prompto sighs.

The sunlight doesn’t hurt so much anymore, rather a warm presence in Noct’s bedroom. Prompto watches through half-closed eyes as the light reflects onto the wall, bare save for the photographs Prompto printed out for Noctis. His own bedroom is plastered with his photographs, and it makes Prompto ridiculously happy to see his friend do the same here. It’s quiet. Prompto can just hear the distant sounds of traffic out the window, but here, in Noctis’ arms, in Noctis’ bed, it’s as if they’re safely inside their own little world.

“Noct?” Prompto says softly.

“Yeah?”

He can’t see Noctis’ face. Noct’s fingers are still petting his head, the slow rhythm almost lulling Prompto back to sleep. He breathes in, taking in the smell of Noctis’ sheets—the slightly citrus-y detergent Ignis uses, the warmth of sunlight Noctis likes to let in, and something that is Noctis himself entirely. Prompto closes his eyes.

He kind of wants to say,  _ I love you _ , but that isn’t quite right. He has a lot of things he wants to say to Noctis, but he doesn’t think he’s found the words just yet. But that’s okay. They have time.

“Thanks,” he says instead.

Noctis pats his head and holds him close. “Don’t mention it,” he says, and Prompto knows Noctis understands.


	20. happy birthday, noct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in that little window post-high school, pre-road trip from hell
> 
> this one fought me every word but happy birthday, noct. you deserve all the best and all the world.

“I can’t believe you’re ditching your own party,” Prompto says.

“You’re ditching with me,” Noctis reminds him.

“Yeah, but no one’s going to miss me.  _ You’re  _ the reason there’s a party. Iggy’s going to throw a fit once he realizes you’re gone.”

Noctis shrugs. “Gladio said he’ll stall him as long as he can. We’ll live.”

“I sure hope so, because Justice Monster 5 is coming out soon, and I want to be alive for that at least.”

Noctis rolls his eyes. He leans back against the uncomfortable bus seat, tilting his head to look out the window. The lights of Insomnia are a blur through the dirty glass, flashing by as they rumble down the street. They’re the only ones on the bus, sitting in the back. Noctis is grateful for it. While it’s certainly something to have the whole Citadel throw a party for you congratulating you on becoming of age or whatever, all that fancy party stuff is... too much. Even the pretty food makes him a little sick. The only thing he really enjoyed was being able to spend time with his dad without any of the regular royal duties weighing them both down. 

But now he has Prompto’s familiar presence leaning against his side, on their way to his quiet apartment, and Noctis can finally breathe.

He almost dozes off before Prompto’s nudging him awake. Groggily, he follows his friend off the bus and into the night. It’s chilly, and their rumpled suits aren’t really suited for outer wear. But Noctis doesn’t want to go back just yet.

“Hey,” he says, tugging on the back of Prompto’s jacket. “Want to grab something to eat?”

Prompto agrees, just like Noctis knew he would. He doesn’t let go of Prompto’s jacket, and Prompto doesn’t mention it.

The diner they frequented during their high school years is still open. It’s mostly empty this time of night. They slip into a booth in the back, and the waitress leaves them alone after dropping off the menus. Noctis slips down in his seat and watches Prompto flick through the menu with interest, even though in all their years of coming here, he always orders the same thing.

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto says after they order. 

“Yeah?”

Prompto opens his mouth, and then seems to change his mind. “Do you want to split a milkshake? I don’t think I can finish one right now but I really want one.”

Noctis could push it, probably. Prompto has never really ever said no to Noctis. And Noctis knows just how much his friend gets lost in his own head sometimes. But he’s tired. And hungry. So Noctis lets it go. He trusts that Prompto will tell him when he’s ready.

“Sure,” Noctis says, “but only if it’s strawberry.”

“Fine, birthday boy.”

They don’t talk much as they work through the food. It’s greasy and the fries are a bit too crispy but Noctis likes it. He likes the muted jukebox in the corner, he likes the dim lighting of the diner, he likes the weird contrast between his nice suit and the crinkly leather of the booth seat he’s sprawled on. He likes the way the low lamps above them makes Prompto’s hair look so soft, he likes the way Prompto licks at the salt on his fingers, he likes the way Prompto’s eyes catch his and they share a secret smile.

Noctis ends up finishing most of the milkshake, but he doesn’t really mind. Prompto hums at his side as they walk towards Noctis’ apartment. The streets are quiet, only distant lights following them as they make their way home. Weariness still clings to Noctis like a second skin, but there’s something else settling in his chest, too. Something warm. 

He reaches out, hand bumping against Prompto’s. His friend glances back once, and then, smiling, tangles their fingers together effortlessly. They don’t let go until they reach home.

It takes them little more than half an hour to finish showering and change into soft sweaters and sweatpants. Noctis sends a text to both Gladio and Ignis to let them know he and Prompto made it back safe, and then shuts off his phone. It’s really late, now, but neither of them want to give in to sleep just yet.

“Move over,” Noctis says, shoving at Prompto’s shoulder.

“I was here first,” Prompto protests.

“This is my couch.”

“There’s plenty of room over there—”

“Prompto—”

There’s a few seconds of half-hearted scuffling, and then Noctis flops his entire weight onto his best friend, draping his limbs over Prompto and refusing to budge an inch. Prompto squirms, pinching Noctis where he can reach. 

“Noct,” Prompto whines, “you’re squishing me.”

“You deserve it.”

“Wow, I really feel the love here.”

Noctis shifts until he’s settled more comfortably on top of Prompto. The television is playing some movie he can’t follow, and behind Prompto’s head he can see the twinkling lights of Insomnia. Closing his eyes, Noctis rests his head against Prompto’s chest.

“Hey, Noct,” Prompto says. 

“Yeah?”

Prompto hesitates. Noctis can feel fingers playing with his hair. Their limbs are tangled together, Prompto’s steady heartbeat in his ear. It’s the most comfortable Noctis has felt all day.

When Prompto still doesn’t say anything, Noctis grumbles. He pokes his friend in the side. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just... Did you have fun today?”

Noctis thinks about it. He had to get up early, wear a stuffy tie, smile for flashing cameras, sit through too many speeches by important people who he never bothered to remember. But his dad spent all day with him, and Ignis made those tarts he likes again, and Gladio whispered bad jokes through all the waiting, and Iris offered to be his first dance so he could slip away from the party afterwards. And Prompto was there by his side the whole time.

“Yeah,” Noctis says. “I did.”

Prompto hums. “That’s good.” He pauses, and Noctis can feel himself drifting off again. Then, fingers brushing through his hair and tracing down his back, he hears Prompto’s soft voice going, “Happy birthday, Noct.”

Noctis doesn’t manage to answer. He curls closer, pressing his face into Prompto’s warmth. With a sense of irresistible tranquility and a contented smile on his face, Noctis falls asleep.


	21. are you sure this is a good idea?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre road trip from hell

The halls of the Citadel are pretty empty today. Noctis takes advantage of this and threads his fingers around Prompto’s, tugging his friend through the endless corridors of the grand building he grew up in.

“How do you not get lost in this place?” Prompto asks, still gaping at the sleek floors and intricately decorated walls. 

“Trial and error,” Noctis replies. “It helps when you’re bored and trying to get away from your annoying tutors.” He shoots Prompto a wicked smile. “You won’t believe how many hidden hallways and doors I discovered.”

“Wow, you must’ve been one headache to raise.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Prompto follows Noctis through the winding halls and twisting doorways. He’s horribly lost by now, but Noctis’ hand is in his, and he trusts Noctis with his life. He still can’t shake the feeling that maybe he doesn’t belong here, with all it’s intricate walls and sparkling marble floors, but Noctis has never looked at him as anything less, so Prompto tries his best to believe that.

They end up in an open room, with sunlight coming through from the tall, domed ceiling and rich, royal black draped over the walls. There’s a set of intimidating stairs winding up in a half-circle, glinting silver underneath lush carpet. At the top, a single gold-and-black throne sits. The sight makes him shiver.

Prompto stops breathing. “N-Noct,” he gasps. “A-Are you sure this is a good idea? I’m, I—”  _ I shouldn’t be in here _ , is what he tries to say, but all that comes out is a strangled whine.

“I know,” Noctis says, “impressive, right? I’ve always thought it was too extra.” His hand is still around Prompto’s, and when he tugs, Prompto goes with him. “Come on, it’s fine. No one is here, and I played in here all the time when I was small.”

Prompto doesn’t think he’s reeled back from the awe and shock just yet. He quietly follows Noctis to the foot of the stairs. His legs tremble when Noctis starts to climb them.

“Prom?”

Noctis looks down at him, concerned. The sunlight casts a slight halo over him, and his eyes seem a lighter shade of blue. He looks different, and yet the same. For the first time, Prompto looks at his best friend and thinks,  _ royalty _ .

Noctis holds out his hand. “Come on,” he says. “I want to show you something.”

And Prompto is taking his hand before he knows it.

There are a lot of steps. Almost as many as the ridiculously grand staircase at the front of the Citadel. The carpet is soft, and their feet barely make a sound as they climb and climb and climb. Prompto can easily match Noctis’ pace, what with years of working on his legs, but he keeps himself a step behind. Noctis hasn’t let go of his hand, so he holds on.

“I think,” Prompto says, trying for a playful tone despite his tingling nerves, “your father should invest in some escalators.”

Noctis laughs, and the sound untangles the knot in Prompto’s stomach. “That’s what I tell him, but he said I can argue with the council on that when I’m King.”

When they reach the top, standing just feet away from the throne, from the softly pulsing Crystal looming over it, Noctis turns Prompto around and Prompto can feel his breath escape him for the second time. 

Up here, the room is even more spacious than he thought. The dark tapestries give the air a muted sort of regality. The sunlight filtering in from above their heads send tiny rainbows dancing throughout the vast room. There’s a strange, purplish glow coming from the Crystal behind him, reminding Prompto that he’s standing in a very important place he shouldn’t have access to. He shivers again. His heartbeat stutters in his chest. He’s pretty sure his palm is sweating, but Noctis doesn’t make a move to pull away.

“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” Noctis says. 

Prompto nods.

“I always come up here when I want to be alone.” Noctis has his face tilted towards the stained glass windows on the right, and Prompto watches the coloured light shift over those familiar features. “No one ever comes in here unless there’s a special ceremony. Even my father only comes in when he needs to access the Crystal.”

Prompto keeps quiet. He’s still not certain why he was brought here, but he knows when Noctis needs to work his thoughts out loud.

“I used to hate it,” Noctis confesses quietly. “I think maybe I still do—maybe some part of me always will. Everything in this room is what stole my father away. Is continuing to steal him away—and will probably one day steal me away, too.” His hand tightens around Prompto’s. “It’s not fair that it’s so beautiful in here. It’s not fair that something slowly chipping away at my father’s life span is so beautiful.”

There’s a slight tremor in Noctis’ voice. Prompto knows he can’t possibly make a difference, he can’t take away all these things that cause his best friend pain. But he’s the one Noctis showed this sacred place to. He’s the one Noctis chose to spill his secrets to. So he makes it count.

“Noct,” he says. Prompto tilts his head to catch Noctis’ gaze. “Thank you for showing me this.”

“It’s nothing,” Noctis mutters.

“It  _ is _ something,” Prompto insists. “It’s important, not just to all of Lucis, but to  _ you _ , and that—that makes it important to me.”

Noctis doesn’t reply. He’s looking out over the empty throne room again.

“It’s going to be okay.”

A beat, and then Noctis is turning towards him again. Prompto squeezes his hand. “It’s going to be okay,” he repeats. He grins. “When you become King, we’ll renovate this place, yeah? Make it brighter, more welcoming. Get rid of all these stairs.”

The soft purple glow from the Crystal still stains their skin. But there’s a smile playing at the corner of Noctis’ mouth, and his hand is a firm weight in Prompto’s hand. When Prompto tugs at their joined hands, Noctis sits down next to him on the first step. They lean against each other, watching sunlight reflect off the silence of the room. 

It’s warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> accidentally sprinkled in that good ole Noctis Angst,,
> 
> anyway i forgot that the whole point of why i started this one was something like this: they fall asleep and king regis finds them there, sitting in front of the throne, snoring away but looking so content... king regis doesn't own a camera but if he did he would have snapped at least 58 photographs of that moment; instead, he calls his shield over to gush over how cute his son is while clarus is like, "your majesty, please, you came in here for a Reason, shouldn't we wake them up. civilians shouldn't be allowed in here---regis, are you tearing up---get a hold of yourself---"


	22. snow day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's snowing where i live and i am Suffer, pls bring back my warmth or let me hibernate until next summer
> 
> happy holidays <3

It’s snowing outside.

Noctis wakes to Prompto tapping his face excitedly, wearing that blinding grin of his when he has something good to share. 

“Noct, Noct,” Prompto is saying. He points out the window. “Look! Look, it’s snowing!”

Squinting, Noctis rolls over to peer out the window. He rubs his eyes. But Prompto was right. It  _ is  _ snowing. Noctis gapes, watching tiny specks of white drift by, covering the city in a sparkling silent blanket.

“It’s snowing,” Noctis says dumbly.

“I know! This is amazing!” Prompto flings himself off the bed and bounds towards Noct’s apartment window. “I’ve never seen this much snow in Insomnia before. It’s always melted before, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s so pretty! Arghhh, I wish I brought my camera.” Prompto already has his phone out, snapping pictures this way and that.

Noctis shakes his head. Insomnia doesn’t really snow. He can only remember the scarce few times it did before; the snow almost always melting away before it can pile up, the barest suggestion of snow. In recent years, though, the weather’s been kind of funny, which Noctis has chalked up to the Wall and the Crystal’s magic. But his father says it’s fine, so Noctis isn’t too worried.

Prompto suddenly spins back around. His smile is almost brighter than the snow falling outside. “Noct,” he says, “let’s go outside!”

“But it’s cold.”

Prompto hops back onto the bed, landing half on top of Noctis. “I want to play in the snow before it melts away. We can build a snow-chocobo!”

Noctis huffs in amusement. “Are you a kid?”

“Nooooct.” 

Prompto shoves his head against Noctis’ side and nuzzles back and forth. It kind of tickles. It kind of reminds Noctis of Umbra, on the rare occasions the dog decides to linger. Noctis shoves a hand against Prompto’s blond hair.

“Okay, okay,” he sighs, and Prompto pops back up, beaming at him. Noctis rolls his eyes. “We should dress warmer, though, or else Specs will kill us both.”

They spend twenty minutes digging through Noctis’ closet. He owns lots of sweaters, but most of them are thin, made for warmer weather. He tosses a thick wool-knit sweater at Prompto before proceeding to tug on several layers himself. By the time they shuffle down the hall to the stairwell, Noctis is drowning in four layers of shirts and sweaters and a winter coat. Prompto is dressed similarly, except he seems content in his parka and mile-long scarf.

“Wait, wait, let me take a picture before your footprints ruin it!”

“Excuse me? My footprints  _ complete _ the picture.”

Noctis waits anyway, rubbing his hands together as Prompto kneels at a very awkward-looking position. When his friend finally tucks his phone away, Noctis waits no time in hopping into the pristine sparkling white sidewalk, firmly planting his footprints in the snow. There’s a sharp sense of satisfaction when he lifts his feet.

“Noct, Noct, come on,” Prompto says. His feet is kicking up snow every which way. He hooks an arm around the crook of Noct’s elbow and tugs. The edge of his toque slips down slightly, pressing his bangs into his eyes. His hair’s getting long again. Noctis has the urge to reach out and fix it.

So he does. Prompto blinks at him, and then he’s beaming again, and Noctis thinks maybe he should have brought his sunglasses along. He lets Prompto tow him along the snow-covered sidewalks. The city is still just waking up, leaving the two of them to stroll through the streets as they please. They exchange polite nods with a few dog walkers, trade sympathetic exchanges with people trying to figure out how to travel to work in this weather. Mostly, though, Noctis watches the way Prompto’s eyes sparkle as he points at various shapes shrouded in snowy white, do you think they’re cold, do you think it will melt away, Noct, look, look at the pattern the frost painted on the windows!

“Your skin’s all red from the cold,” he says, reaching over to poke at Prompto’s pink nose.

Prompto pokes him back. “You look like a penguin, waddling along in all your layered glory.”

“That’s Prince Penguin to you.”

“Are you really cold, though? We can head back if you want.”

“It’s fine.”

They stop by the little park a few blocks from Noctis’ apartment. There are a few children playing in the snow by the playground already. Prompto has his phone out again. Noctis stares across the park at the trees, weighed down by fluffy piles of snow. He listens to the sound of laughter coming from the children, the muted tranquility of the morning after first snow. The sound of Prompto’s boots crunching a few feet away.

Crouching down, Noctis scoops up a handful of snow. He pats it a few times with his gloved hands. Then he looks over to where Prompto is looking back at the tracks he made in the snow. Noctis spares a few seconds to take aim, and then—

“ _ Noctis! _ ”

The startled expression on Prompto’s face makes Noctis laugh. He’s bent over, hands on his knees, full-belly laughing. Letting his guard down, even though Gladio had relentlessly tried to drill this out of him so many times. Which is why he doesn’t see Prompto storming over and reaching for his collar until it’s too late.

Snow down the back of his neck is a sensation he never wants to experience again. 

They end up scuffling across the little field, yelling bad insults and throwing snowballs with appalling aim for people currently undergoing training by Insomnia’s finest. Their snowball fight gains the attention of the children across the park, and soon it turns into an all-out war. It lasts until the children are called back for lunch and Noctis and Prompto are left heaving and stumbling in the snow.

Prompto flops backwards onto the snow. He’s lost his hat somewhere in between avoiding being pelted by snowballs, and his blond hair is a sweaty mess. “Ah, that was more exercise than I intended,” he groans.

Noctis lowers himself onto the ground next to Prompto. It’s snowing again. Breathing in the chilly air, Noctis blinks slow, lazy, watching tiny flecks of white drifting down to meet him. Idly, he wonders if it would be silly to stick his tongue out like a child.

“I used to have nightmares about snow,” Prompto says suddenly. 

Noctis turns his head, but Prompto’s still staring at the sky. His face is still red from the physical exertion and the cold. From this distance, Noctis can see the snowflakes that stick to his eyelashes. He keeps quiet.

“I don't really remember what they’re about,” Prompto continues, sounding distant. “Only that I was lost in a blizzard, and alone. I think maybe I was running from someone? Some place? But it’s just... nothing but white, and having no one to call for help or—or even knowing if anyone is looking for me, and that’s...” He sucks in a breath. Noctis watches his eyes flutter closed for a moment. Then Prompto is turning his head, and when he meets Noctis’ gaze, the expression on his face is open and so, so soft. “Sorry,” he says, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I had fun just now. Thanks, Noct.”

Noctis reaches across the few inches of snow between them and holds onto Prompto’s gloved hand. “I had fun, too.”

They lie there in comfortable silence, hands joined together in the space between them until the cold starts to set in again and Noctis can’t feel his nose. Slipping and sliding and clinging onto each other, they race back to Noctis’ apartment with the promise of hot cocoa and the warmth of a blanket fort, the only cure for snow days like this.


	23. rooftop hideout / sweet escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high school era
> 
> if no one is going to answer my prayers for shoujo manga promptis, i'll write my own shoujo manga promptis; have a rooftop scene that's basically just me waxing poetic about promptis

Prompto finds Noctis in his favourite hideout during fourth period. There’s a corner on the rooftop of the science building that is a blind spot from the door and from the neighbouring building in case any teachers are peeking out the windows. His friend is sitting with his back against the chain link fence, eyes closed and head tilted back under the warm sunlight. He looks picture perfect, as he usually does, and Prompto allows himself a moment to take a mental photograph before walking over.

“Heya, Sleepyhead,” he says, plopping down next to his friend.

Noctis’ eyes blink open slowly. “Prompto,” he says.

“Look at you, skipping class like a delinquent.”

The corners of Noct’s mouth quirks up easily, and Prompto relaxes muscles he hadn’t realized was tensed up. “You’re skipping, too.”

“That’s because it’s boring without you.”

“I’d still be napping in class.”

“Yeah, but you’d be beside me.” Prompto bites his lip, but it’s too late, his entire face is blushing now. Noctis notices, of course he does, but he doesn’t say anything, just smiles. It’s hard not to smile back—not that Prompto tries all that hard.

He hesitates for a second, and then asks, “Did something happen?”

Noctis’ gaze slides away, across the rooftop and then down at his knees. “Nah. Just wanted some peace and quiet.”

“Oh. Did you want me to—”

“You’re fine.”

“O-kay.”

They both turn back to the blue skies again. Prompto kind of wishes he brought his camera to school, but it’s been getting a little worse for wear for how often he totes it around so he’s been taking extra care with it. His part time job at the food court has been going smoothly for a few months now, so he’s hoping to be able to buy himself a new one by the end of the term. For now, he makes do with the camera on his phone. He stretches his arm out and squints against the sunlight, tilting slightly for a better angle. It turns out alright, so Prompto turns to show Noct, but he pauses when he finds his friend already watching him in that quiet way of his.

The sunlight brings out the blue of Noct’s eyes. They’re much darker than Prompto’s own, and darker still under Noctis’ long bangs he likes to hide behind. Sometimes Prompto is convinced there is a storm in those eyes, a restless, endless storm that leaves Prompto breathless as he is stranded, too far from the boy trapped in the eye of the hurricane. Noctis is important. He always has been, and always will be, Prompto knows this—just as he knows that Noctis is important to him in a way that has nothing to do with the heavy royal black and the big-ass Crystal sitting up in the Citadel somewhere. But sometimes, even when he’s sitting right here next to him, Prompto can’t help but feel like Noctis is so far away. Like he’ll be swept away if Prompto takes his eyes off him. And Prompto knows that there are some places that Noct has to go that he can’t follow, but. But gods. He would do anything in his power to try.

“Hey,” Noctis says. He’s reaching out, and Prompto startles for a bit before settling. He stills when Noctis’ fingers slip into his hair. It’s a gentle touch, not unfamiliar, but it does things to Prompto’s heart each time. Fuzzy things, warm things. Good things.

“Hey,” Noctis says again, “what are you thinking about?”

“You,” Prompto says honestly.

There’s a smile tugging at Noctis’ mouth. He still looks tired and there’s that sleepy-dazed crinkle to his eyes, but he’s smiling at Prompto, and everything is right. 

“Are you flirting with me?” Noctis asks, voice soft. His fingers have slipped down to the naked skin of Prompto’s nape, just above the collar of his school blazer. It tickles a little. It’s very distracting.

Prompto smiles, leaning into the touch. “Are you?”

Noctis laughs. Then his eyes dip down to Prompto’s lips. He looks back up, a question—but Prompto is already nodding, and then they’re leaning in, Noct’s hand warm against the back of Prompto’s neck, Prompto’s eyes fluttering closed—

It’s soft, sweet, just like the other times they kissed. Prompto holds still as Noctis presses shy little kisses against his mouth, careful hands reaching up to hold his jaw. This is new territory for them. They’ve always been easy about breathing in each other’s spaces, but kissing is different. There’s a trick to breathing, a back and forth and give and take in figuring out what the other likes, what is too much, what is not enough. It’s like a game, but Prompto doesn’t mind if he loses. He doesn’t think there is a losing in this one.

The angle is a bit off. Noctis makes a confused sound when Prompto pulls back. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “Just, my neck—”

“Oh.” Noctis draws his hands back towards himself. There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks now, one Prompto has discovered he really, really likes. Noctis stretches out his legs. “Come here,” he says.

Prompto does. It takes them a bit of maneuvering and a few mumbled apologies as shins come into contact with knees, but they make it work. He ends up half in Noctis’ lap, hands on the other boy’s shoulders to keep from toppling over. When he looks up, his nose is barely inches away from Noctis’ face. 

“Hi,” he says, grinning.

“Dork,” Noctis whispers back.

Then they’re kissing again, clumsy and slow, but so, so sweet. Noct’s hands are twin steady pressures on his hips. His own hands have found the joy of exploring those silky-looking dark locks—not as silky as they look but the little noises Noctis makes when Prompto’s fingers catch on a particularly stubborn knot more than makes up for it. The sunlight is warm against his back, and the boy before him is even warmer.

Prompto loses track of how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other without a care for the rest of the world. All he can think of is the brush of Noct’s eyelashes against his cheek, the shiver down his spine when Noct’s tongue slips between their locked lips. It’s strange, because when Prompto thought about kissing before, he didn’t find it all that appealing. But now, tucked snugly in his best friend’s arms, he kind of doesn’t want it to stop.

Eventually, they do stop, but there’s a smile on both faces. Noct’s eyes are half-lidded, though not in the sleepy way, but in the way he goes all quiet when he’s happy. Prompto never tires of being able to put that expression on Noct’s face. He settles on the rooftop floor in between Noctis’ legs and sighs.

“What’s Iggy going to say when he finds out we skipped class to make out on the roof?”

Noctis takes hold of Prompto’s hand, and Prompto lets him, watching as their fingers tangle together. “We’ll just tell him it’s normal. Teenagers do this all the time, you know? Who cares about school when you can be spending time with people you love?”

Prompto’s blushing again, but he can’t stop grinning. “Are you saying we’re not being original, Noct?”

“I’m saying,” says Noctis. He pauses, and for a moment they just stare at each other. Noctis’ hair is a mess—Prompto’s handiwork, Prompto’s masterpiece. His lips are still red from the kissing. Prompto has the urge to snap a picture, but he knows no camera can ever do it justice. Noctis’ hand tightens around Prompto’s.

“I’m saying,” says Noctis, “it’s youth.”

Prompto tilts his head. “Are you saying you won’t skip work to make out with me when we’re old men?”

Noctis rolls his eyes. He tugs on their linked hands, and Prompto goes easily. Noctis wraps his arms around Prompto, rests his chin on his head. “You know I would, you dork. Any time.”

Somewhere, a clock is chiming, signalling the end of the period. The sun continues to shine down on them, a blanket of warmth, a sense of safety. Prompto wriggles until he can slip his arms around Noctis, too. He closes his eyes, and listens to the sound of Noctis’ heartbeat, steady and certain, here to stay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -i couldn't find words graceful enough but basically noct was trying to say _i'll always feel forever young with you_  
>  -i thought of that and then i thought what if he meant _we'll just stay forever young_ and then i thought of canon and then i made myself sad so no!!!!!!  
>  -placeholder title for this chapter was "two bros making out on the rooftop 0 feet apart bc they ARE gay"  
> -i've never made out with anyone so uhh pls excuse this mess  
> -iggy finds out they skipped but they just told him that noct felt like taking a nap and unfortunately he used prompto as a pillow so uhhh pretty solid alibi tbh  
> -kuroo tetsurou "ah, youth".gif


	24. love like you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [@AllroundYaoiFangirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AllroundYaoiFangirl/pseuds/AllroundYaoiFangirl) requested the prompt ["love like you"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clJk8a5q1Lo) by rebecca sugar, so here's my attempt! i'm sorry if it reads more like an essay omg papers are due Soon and i'm stressin'

Noctis is the best thing that’s ever happened to Prompto.

That sounds cheesy, but it’s true. Before Noctis, Prompto was... Well. He didn’t like to think about that. He thought about it so little, he’s managed to turn those years before falling at Noctis’ feet into a blur. Which doesn’t really bother him. In his opinion, his character development really begins after greeting Noctis on the first day of freshman year. 

See, Prompto’s always been shy. His classmates didn’t hate him or anything, they just didn’t really talk to him. Which wasn’t really their fault. Prompto’s the one that tends to keep his head down and eyes low. Prompto’s the one that’s all too aware of his fair skin and pale hair, Prompto’s the one clinging to his camera like a lifeline. So it’s not their fault that Prompto sucked at making friends.

But Noctis is different. It’s weird, because Noctis is quiet and hard to approach and the  _ freaking prince of the freaking kingdom _ . You’d think that would deter Prompto even more, but nope. Lunafreya’s letter isn’t just pretty stationery and beautiful handwriting, it must have contained some sort of magic confidence spell because Prompto just knew that he was going to go home at the end of the day calling Noctis his friend.

Prompto no longer walked home alone. He never used to mind it—every opportunity is a photo opportunity if he tried hard enough. But now, there’s someone to chat with as he peers through the viewfinder, there’s someone to entertain him when he points out a dog across the street. Some days they stopped by the arcade, some afternoons they holed up in the corner booth of their favourite diner, telling jokes and playing King’s Knight on their phones. Even if the house is always dark when Prompto unlocked it, the warmth from Noct’s gaze and the echo of their joined laughter is enough to get him through the night.

Some nights, it’s still hard. The shadows threaten to boil over into reality. His right wrist would itch and itch and itch until Prompto had to wrap it in bandages and dig out his phone to send Noctis a meaningless text, in hopes that his friend might be able to distract him long enough to keep his demons at bay. Some nights, Prompto was certain that the darkness entwined with his very core will take over and kill everything he holds dear. That’s what monsters do when the sun goes down, don’t they? That’s where he came from. That’s what he was.

But he thinks of Noctis, and he thinks Noctis would be sad if he knew the things Prompto thought in front of his mirror. He thinks of Noctis, and he knows he can do better. He  _ is _ better. 

Prompto is not a monster when he is with Noctis. 

Noctis is quiet by nature, laid-back and takes things at his own pace. He likes to laugh even though it takes a bit of effort to make him ditch his proper prince facade. He cares for his friends and family and his people in that wordless way of his, from a distance, a comforting presence always there when you need it. Noctis is kind, even if he is awkward at showing it. Noctis loves like the night sky: steadily, endlessly, selflessly. 

Prompto loves that about Noctis. And one day, Prompto wants to learn to love like Noctis, too. 

And when he does, maybe he can learn to love himself, too.

 

 

 

 

 

Prompto is the best thing to ever walk into Noctis’ life.

Fate has always been a heavy rain cloud hovering over Noctis’ head, forcing his gaze down and his shoulders hunched. But fate must have felt pity for him, because Prompto falls into his life, and it’s like Noctis has been wandering around in the half-dark all this time and he didn’t even know it. 

Prompto is like sunshine—dazzling and warm and irreplaceable. He’s cheerful even when it rains, even when they have math class first thing in the morning, even when Noctis is withdrawn and grumpy after a visit to the Citadel. He doesn’t ask questions when Noctis is forced to cancel their plans, he doesn’t complain when Noctis has to stay indoors and not move on really bad days when the chronic pain refuses to let up. He’s a comforting presence in the one-track blur that is Noctis’ life.

Noctis is lucky to be one of the few people Prompto shares his photographs with. He’s encouraged Prompto to submit to photography contests many times, but Prompto has only ever given that small smile of his and mumbled something about next time. Through Prompto’s photographs, Noctis sees a completely different world. If Gladio heard that, he’d probably laugh, but Noctis stands by it. Sometimes he watches Prompto peer through his camera and wonders how it is that Prompto can see such beauty all the time. There must be something radiant within Prompto so that he can reflect it back to the world around him so effortlessly. Prompto gives so much without ever asking for anything back, and Noctis is endlessly in awe.

Being born a prince, Noctis is never left for want. He knows he’s spoiled compared to most people, compared to Prompto. But Prompto never makes a big deal out of it. And only after befriending Prompto does Noctis understand that all he ever wanted was someone to talk to, someone to listen to, someone to pour his whole being into—but Prompto would never ask him to. Prompto could have the whole of Lucis that Noctis could give him, should he ask for it, but Prompto has only ever asked for Noctis to be Noctis himself. 

Prompto inspires Noctis to be the best he can be, and so much more.

Noctis doesn’t quite know how, or if it’s even possible, to ever return the favour. Every time he tries, he finds himself in a whirlwind of Prompto’s smiles and shoulder bumps and those violet-blue eyes. He doesn’t know why Prompto shies away from well-deserved affection or why Prompto covers the mirrors in his house, but Noctis wishes more than anything that one day, Prompto can see himself the way he sees the world, the way Noctis sees him.

Noctis wants to learn to love life like Prompto does, so that maybe, just maybe, Prompto might believe him when he says he loves him back.


	25. 背影 / silhouette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhere in between graduating high school and realizing your future looms before you and you are but a tired, lost boy trying to be a good son and a good prince - so it's nice to know you are and you have such a good friend.

 

“You’re joking.”

The exasperated look Ignis is giving Noctis tells him he isn’t. “The meeting was cancelled last minute,” Ignis repeats, “You no longer have to report to the Citadel tonight. Congratulations on having your Saturday night off, Highness.”

Noctis flops back onto the couch with a groan. “Are you serious? I got ready and everything. I put on a tie!”

“You mean  _ I  _ put on a tie for you,” says Ignis. “I thought you’d be happy with your night off.”

“I am, it’s just. I was all prepared to stand there smiling politely and zoning out for three hours. What am I supposed to do for the rest of the night now?”

“Why not call up Prompto?” 

“Good idea,” Noct says, pulling out his phone.

“Always here to deliver,” Ignis replies dryly. “Meanwhile, I shall take this extra time to get some work done. Do let me know if you’ll be leaving the apartment after all.”

Noctis grunts an affirmative, but Ignis is already gone. He taps out a quick message to Prompto, frowning slightly when he doesn’t receive an immediate reply. It’s not that he expects Prompto to always be available for every one of his whims and wills, but Noctis knows Prompto, and he knows that Prompto is practically glued to his phone. The boy can barely go take a dump without grabbing his phone. 

A reply does come, though, just as Noctis is considering undressing and rolling into bed. 

**[chocobutt]:** _ sry dude im at the gallery _

**[sleeping beaut]:** _ gallery???? _

**[chocobutt]:** _ yea???? my exhibition’s today!!!! _

**[sleeping beaut]:** _???  _

**[chocobutt]:** _ photography, my guy. ring a bell? _

Noctis frowns. He remembers Prompto fidgeting with his camera a lot in the past few weeks, but his royal duties have piled up in the past month and he was forced to take a raincheck on his best friend more often than not. But he would have remembered something about an exhibition event, wouldn’t he?

His phone buzzed with another message.

**[chocobutt]:** _ i left u some tix but u said u had that Thing tonight _

Noctis blinks. He raises his head and stares across the room at the dining table, where all the non-urgent mail and documents are piled. He jumps up and shuffles through the envelopes. Sure enough, there’s a nondescript one with Prompto’s tiny scrawl on it. There’s a complimentary ticket inside.

**[sleeping beaut]:** _ is it too late to show up _

In the five minutes it takes for Prompto to respond, Noctis has shrugged his jacket back on and is texting Ignis the details. He laughs at the flurry of emojis and exclamation marks Prompto is spamming him. He can’t tell if it’s out of excitement or what. With one last glance in the mirror by the entryway, Noctis brushes his hair back and steps out the door.

 

 

 

The gallery is quite crowded. Or Noctis thinks so, anyway. It’s not somewhere he regularly visits, so he has no idea if this was normal for a student exhibition or not. But everyone’s shoes make solid clacking sounds across the clean floor, there are fresh flowers in sparkling vases by the entrance, and waiters walking by with little fancy glasses. Noctis is glad that he doesn’t seem overdressed.

The map they gave him wasn’t very clear, though he did find his best friend’s name on the third floor. Noctis doesn’t really get photography, even though Prompto has attempted to teach him more than a few times. He likes it when Prompto talks about photography. His blue eyes light up, his voice seems to brighten, and his hands flutter through the air as he tries to describe the art he sees through his lens. Noctis probably won’t ever get photography, but he gets Prompto, and that’s good enough for him.

He makes his way up to the third floor slowly. Everyone is talking in hushed tones with each other, pointing at the portraits hung up along the wall and peering at the artists’ bios. Noctis sees a few serious-looking people tapping away on tablets, calculating bidding prices. He stops by a photograph of an empty swing set just after rain. It’s hard to believe that everything here is produced by people his age.

The second floor is full of brightly coloured shots. They’re mostly of inanimate objects, many of the manipulated through other technology. Noctis squints at the photographs, tilting his head, trying to make sense of it all. It doesn’t really work. Art, he supposes.

Quietly, Noctis circulates the room and makes his way past the people milling about in front of the exhibits pieces. It doesn’t take him long to find the stairs. He glances down the hall towards the elevators, but decides he doesn’t really want to be stuck inside with strangers choking on their perfume. Worse if they accidentally recognize him. He taps a fist on his knee, and then starts climbing.

There are less people up here, but the ones that are here linger and carry clipboards and tablets and appear to be taking notes down. Noctis edges around them. He flips through the program.  _ Third floor: Exhibition Highlights.  _ As he reads the description, Noctis’ eyes widen. He knew his best friend was good at photography, but he never knew he was  _ this  _ good. Or rather, it’s something else to see Prompto be actually recognized for the talent he has. 

Noct is going to punch him for not telling him about the awards he’s earned with this project.

He takes a few minutes to look at the other artworks. They’re aesthetically pleasing, and he can see why they’re placed up here. But then he turns the corner, and he stops dead.

There was an evening, months ago, when Noctis ditched a meeting at the Citadel and convinced Prompto to play hooky with him. They didn’t go very far, what with Noct’s security detail keeping an eye on him and Ignis always a stern text away. But the ‘guards on duty were far in the distance, Ignis busy taking minutes for Noctis to read later, and Gladio off on another job. For just one night, it was just the two of them. For just one night, Noct felt like a real teenager, wild and carefree, with Prompto’s unwavering laughter by his side.

They ended up at the abandoned cathedral up on the western hill, the one with the big and half-broken parking lot that overlooks part of the City and the Wall. Kids liked to host parties there after dark, but that evening, it was empty. Prompto picked the lock on the fence and Noctis warped the both of them up to the bell tower. Their bags of convenience store snacks nearly didn’t make it, but the sight that greeted them up there made Noctis forget about it. 

Prompto has always gushed about how beautiful sunsets were, but that was the first night Noctis finally understood why. Watercolour pastels splashed across the horizon, the sun taking its time to say goodbye. There was a faint purple sheen from the Wall, but the myriad of colours seemed to suspend time and space. But that wasn’t the best part. When Noctis turned towards his best friend, he found liquid gold spilled across Prompto’s freckles, soft summer glow painted into his skin. A campfire warmth spread from Noctis’ chest to his fingertips. 

Even without a camera, that image of Prompto, sunkissed and alight with fading day, has and will always stay imprinted in Noct’s mind.

The photograph hanging on the wall next to Prompto’s name is from that evening. It’s a little later, when the last rays of light are lingering just beyond the Wall, about to retire for the night. Noctis remembers settling on the side of the decaying tower, legs swinging over the edge. Prompto had turned to retrieve their abandoned snacks, and he must have snapped the picture then, because there is the Insomnian dusk stretched out through the uneven window of the tower, and there is Noct’s silhouette against the backdrop of shy starlight and shifting purple. The dimness ensures that only if you knew it was Noctis would you be able to tell it was him. But Noctis was there, and he knows. 

Did his back always look that small and afraid? 

_ awaiting (the breath before the beginning) _ is the title of the piece. Noctis lets his gaze trail from the title card back to the photograph. Something stings at the back of his eyes.

“Noct?”

Blinking hard, Noctis turns to find Prompto. He’s dressed up fancier than Noct’s ever seen him, though he’s still wearing those stupid scuffed combat boots he found from the thrift store last year. He looks good.

“Dude, I can’t believe you actually came,” Prompto is saying. He’s grinning, but his fingers flutter from his hair to the buttons on his slightly-too-large jacket to the name tag pinned on his shirt. “You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I did,” Noctis says. “I was already dressed up, anyway.”

“I see that.”

“So are you. I didn’t know this was such a big event.”

“It’s not! Not really. Just, uh.” Prompto gestures to his work on the wall. “Got highlighted.”

Noctis punches his best friend on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you won? This is a big deal.”

“Well, I did invite you! And, besides, you had that meeting—”

“I would have moved it or skipped—”

“ _ Noct _ , you can’t just—”

“You’re important, too,” Noctis says, and Prompto closes his mouth. Heat runs through Noctis’ face so he breaks eye contact, turning instead to the photograph. “I didn’t know you took this one.”

Prompto turns to face the picture, too. “I didn’t mean to, T-B-H. But I turned around and you were right there and the sun was going down and...”

“And then you won?”

Prompto laughs. He scratches his nose. “Yeah. Sorry, by the way.”

Noctis shakes his head. “It’s fine. I like it.”

“Yeah?”

Meeting Prompto’s eyes, Noctis smiles. “Yeah.”

They both stare at the photograph for a while longer, quiet. Then Prompto nudges Noctis, that playful grin back on his face.

“What do you say we get out of here and go get some fries?”

“Share a milkshake?”

“You bet.”

So, giggling grade schoolers up to no good, they shuffle their way back down the stairs and out into the cool night air. Prompto tilts his head back and points out the neon lights of the city. Noctis hums along, eyes on the way the coloured lights reflect off Prompto’s animated expressions. His shoulder bumps into Prompto’s. Prompto presses right back.

 

 

 

It’s not until much later that night, when they finally make it back to Noct’s apartment, stomachs full and lips tasting strawberry-sweet, falling into Noct’s bed and curling up together like a pair of cats, that Noctis allows his mind to wander back to Prompto’s photograph. He thinks about the vast expanse of the sunset sky, of endless possibilities laid out before him. He thinks about the smallness of his silhouette compared to the rest of this restless city, the rest of the kingdom he’s supposed to inherit, the rest of Eos he can barely fathom from his corner of the universe. It’s more than daunting.

But here is Prompto, limbs sprawled on top of him, rolling over and trapping Noctis against the comfortable bed. Here is Prompto, mouth open slightly and already snoring lightly, familiar warmth pressed against his skin. Noctis closes his eyes, and he thinks about how the quiet of that evening was broken by Prompto tapping a soda against the back of his head, how he had shuffled over on the ledge to make room for his best friend, how the two of them sat side by side until twilight began to sings it song. And he thinks, maybe being on the verge of growing up and carrying the weight of his fate on his shoulders won’t be so bad. Not if he has his friends at his side. Not if he has Prompto.

Smiling into Prompto’s hair, Noctis slips into a wonderful dream full of sunlit warmth and the sound of Prompto’s laughter.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on an unrelated note:  
> there's a chinese poem titled 背影 which i guess is literally translated to "silhouette" or "the shadow of a person's back." the guy who wrote it was basically describing how he was getting on the train and going away to study abroad or something, leaving home, and while he and his father was never good at communicating, his father showed up to see him off, and if i remember correctly, the son just wanted to leave and waved his father off but when he looked back as the train was leaving, he saw his father's silhouette, carrying oranges that the son refused, and just. that mental image has struck me til this day. (also i can't help but giggle over the detail about carrying a bag of oranges but that kills the mood, oops)
> 
>  _edit:_ i am wrong, it is a prose piece/personal essay and the author is 朱自清. i found a version of it in traditional chinese [here](http://blog.xuite.net/stream3688719/twblog/146983715-%E6%9C%B1%E8%87%AA%E6%B8%85%E7%9A%84%E3%80%8C%E8%83%8C%E5%BD%B1%E3%80%8D); the story is much different than what i remember but the sentiment is still there, i hope, ahaha 
> 
> anyway, remind me to never write about other forms of art in writing bc holy shit coming up with descriptors and metaphors and godforsaken _titles_ is so much work, i'm sorry if any of it sounds cheesy or pretentious


	26. it's just me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set somewhere along the road trip
> 
> ... this is just two boys making out in a car. i didn't mean for that to happen but there they are and here i am

Prompto wakes to the sound of a steady heartbeat next to his ear and familiar arms encircling him. His limbs are scrunched up in a way that will definitely come back and bite him later, but for now, hovering in the entrancing in between of wakefulness and sleep, it’s the most comfortable he’s been in a while.

He keeps his eyes closed even as his consciousness slowly raises its head. There’s the sound of rain drumming against the roof of the Regalia. The rise and fall of the chest he’s pressed against matches the soft breaths fluttering through his hair. He can’t hear the others, so they must be filling up the tank or stocking up on supplies—or are they setting up camp? He can’t remember. Each day has been blending into the next, a miserable routine of searching for havens, fighting monsters, fighting MT troops, checking their stock of curatives, hunting down the Royal Tombs, and general running for their lives. It could be worse, he knows. At least he still has his best buds with him. At least he can still be there for Noct.

The hand behind his head suddenly clenches, fingers catching on the tangled strands of his hair. Startled, Prompto’s eyes open. Noctis is still asleep, but there’s a tension in his jaw. Prompto watches as he grinds his teeth together, brows furrowing, arms tightening around him. He lets out a little huff. It would have been funny, if he wasn’t obviously having a nightmare.

Carefully tugging his arm out from where it was trapped between Noctis’ hip and the Regalia’s backseat, Prompto lays it gently on the side of Noct’s face. As soon as his fingers touch Noct’s jaw, Noctis jerks, and his eyes snap open.

“Hey,” Prompto murmurs. “It’s just me.”

“Prompto,” says Noct.

Wordlessly, Prompto draws circles on Noct’s cheek with his thumb. He watches Noctis’ eyes flutter. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Noctis leans into Prompto’s touch. His eyes have slipped shut again. The hand in Prompto’s hair stays still, a warm weight against the back of his head. “Maybe later,” Noctis says. 

Prompto hums. He traces his fingers across Noctis’ face, down his nose, over his lips, following the arch of his eyebrows. He smiles as he paints a blush along Noct’s cheekbones. As if he can hear Prompto’s smile, Noctis peeks one eye at him. He tugs on a strand of Prompto’s hair, making him yelp.

“Where are we?”

“No idea.”

“Excellent Crownsguarding.”

“Thanks, dude.”

Noctis huffs, and this time Prompto laughs. Noctis smiles in response. He opens both eyes and gazes back at Prompto for a moment. “Hey,” he says. “Wanna make out?”

Prompto’s hand pauses. His mouth twitches. Noctis widens his eyes innocently, but Prompto can see that twinkle in his eyes, the one that makes them look a lighter shade of blue, the one that says he is up to no good, the one that urges Prompto to give in before he can even think it through. 

“Noct,” says Prompto, but he doesn’t have the words to describe the fondness swelling in his chest, so he stops.

“To chase away my nightmare?”

Prompto rolls his eyes. “You know you don’t need to make up an excuse.” He shifts, one hand on the seat and one hand on the door that Noctis is leaning against. “Are you comfy like this, though? Don’t wanna get lectured about hurting your back.”

They shuffle a bit until Noctis is lying in a less awkward position and Prompto isn’t in a human pretzel shape anymore. Noct loops his hands around Prompto’s neck, tugging him closer with an impatient—dare Prompto say it—pout. A grin dances across Prompto’s face. It never ceases to amuse him, seeing Noct like this. Noctis is stubborn and lazy and a whiner in the presence of his bestest friends, but he rarely shows his petulant and demanding self to anybody. Even now, he is hesitant to be verbal about what he wants. So Prompto learns to read between the lines.

Wiggling forwards a bit, until his knees are tucked snug on both sides of Noct’s waist, Prompto cups the side of Noct’s head with his hands. Noctis stares up at him, unblinking, all traces of sleep gone. Prompto spares a moment to snap a mental picture of the boy holding him back, add it to the album of photographs in his head he won’t ever show anyone but he’s always keep close to his heart. Brushing a strand of Noct’s hair out of his eyes, Prompto leans in and carefully, gently, presses their lips together. Their heads naturally adjust to each other, seeking the right angle without breaking apart. Their noses bump slightly, but they’re familiar with this now. They’ve had enough practice with this.

It doesn’t take long for Noctis’ hands to wander. They slip from the back of Prompto’s head to circle lightly around his neck, thumbs pressing slightly on his collarbones. Prompto responds by tangling his fingers through Noct’s hair. They only separate long enough to breathe properly before they’re licking at each other’s tongue again, exploring the shape of teeth that are not their own but are not foreign to them, either. Not anymore. Noct’s hands slide down, hot palms dragging down the front of Prompto’s tank top, and Prompto’s gasp is swallowed neatly by Noctis’ eager mouth. His hands come to a rest on Prompto’s hip bones, fingers slipping underneath the hem of the tank top. Prompto shivers at the contact. He pulls away long enough to catch Noct’s eye.

“If you tickle me, you’re gonna end up with a black eye,” he warns.

Noctis laughs into his mouth. “Noted,” he says. 

It’s so easy to fall back into the rhythm of kissing Noctis. Their hands don’t dip any lower, and their kisses don’t go any faster. It’s just the two of them, here, present and warm and alive in each other’s arms. Noctis is quiet by nature, but the little sounds he makes when Prompto’s lips find their way down his jawline to his throat are like private fireworks Prompto collects in the campfire in his ribcage. He can stay like this for ages and eternities and never tire of it all.

How can he tire of a wonder like Noctis?

They lose time like this, lost in the comfort of each other, slow and familiar and sweet. Prompto starts giggling at some point, unnameable mirth muffled against Noctis’ skin. Noctis huffs, but he’s smiling, too, and then they’re not so much kissing as holding each other and laughing into the quiet of the car. 

Prompto has his face buried in Noct’s chest by the time they hear the sharp rap of knuckles against the tinted window.

“Are you both decent in there?” Ignis’ voice asks.

The sigh that Noct exhales sounds both exasperated and fond. They’ve all moved past the point of embarrassment by now. Prompto doesn’t lift his head, but he grins into Noctis’ shirt. The fingers that tap his head tells him Noctis feels it.

“Yeah,” Noctis replies.

The sound of doors opening, and the other two settling back in. Ignis starts the car, and the low thrum of the engine reminds Prompto of the drowsiness from before. He settles against Noctis more securely.

“Tell Blondie if he falls asleep like that again, he’ll definitely get a kink in his back.”

“Can’t be worse than mine,” Noctis says back to Gladio. He nudges at Prompto, though, and reluctantly, Prompto pushes himself up. He slumps back against Noctis as soon as he’s in a sitting position, nuzzling his head into Noct’s shoulder and refusing to budge. There’s a huff of laughter, ruffling his hair, and then Noct’s arms are around him and tugging him closer. 

The car pulls out onto the road, some half-familiar song playing on the stereo, and then they’re off again, heading ever forwards towards whatever the future and the fates have in store for them. Prompto tilts his head and catches sight of Noctis’ profile. He’s staring out the window, a far away look in his eyes, but his mouth is relaxed for once. There’s no trace of the furrow in his brow from before. Quietly, Prompto shifts his head back into the crook of Noct’s shoulder. He closes his eyes, and lets the road lead them where they need to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been trying to figure out how to write more physical interactions in a more visceral way while making it all flow together but idk. i will probably never go any higher rating than this, though, lmao.  
> and yea it was definitely purposefully vague where they are and when they are because a) i haven't played the game, b) i'm a bit afraid to rewatch playthroughs even for accuracy in fics, c) what does it matter. just let them have this moment,


	27. if you want to go to the moon, i'll take you there, baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking late high school era, maybe ~17 years
> 
> hey @ square, when and how did prompto get into the whole crownsguard business. hey @ square, don't mind me just watering my headcanons all over this spotty garden you gave us
> 
> this chapter heavily inspired by [dnce's "zoom"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ERW3kC8DAM) bc it keeps coming on in the store where i work and how else am i supposed to survive retail hell? writing fic in my head, i guess

“You sure you don’t want a potion?”

Prompto nods. He doesn’t lift his eyes from where he’s putting ointment on the ugly scratch along his forearm. He has a couple more on his shoulders and by his cheeks, littered between darkening bruises and skinned palms. Noctis has to fight the urge to punch the wall, or even better, to beat up the jerks who dared to mess with his best friend when he wasn’t there to look out for him—except Prompto would be upset by that. Prompto didn’t need anyone, let alone Noctis, to look out for him. He can take care of himself, and has been taking care of himself. That doesn’t mean that he should, though.

“I’m fine,” Prompto reassures him, and he sounds so cheery like his normal self that Noctis almost believes him. “Thanks for giving me a ride.”

“It’s nothing. And you’re staying over, right?”

Prompto hesitates, but ultimately agrees. Noctis isn’t above using light threats to make him say yes this time. He’s not about to let his best friend travel through the dark streets of Insomnia after getting into a fight with some no-good bullies. He knows for a fact that no one is waiting for him in that house anyway. Noctis loathes that fact.

“Hey,” he says, and Prompto finally looks up at him. “Does this happen a lot?”

He watches as Prompto’s eyes slide away, and clenches his fists behind his back where Prompto can’t see. That’s all the answer he needs, really. Noctis curses himself for not paying enough attention.

“Not this bad,” Prompto says. “Usually I just avoid them, you know? They just like to taunt me because I look like a Niff—I mean. I guess I am. But it’s okay! I know where I grew up. And besides, I’m going to be your Crownsguard one day, right? I know where my loyalties lie. I don’t have to convince them.”

_ That’s not the problem _ , Noctis wants to say. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Prompto shrugs. “It’s not your problem.”

“Like hell, it’s not my problem—”

“It’s  _ not _ ,” Prompto says over him. “They pick on me because they think I’m an easy target. Because they don’t like that I’m your friend, maybe. But it’s not like I can’t handle them. Have a little faith in me, Noct.”

“I do,” Noctis tells him, “but you’re my best friend and I don’t want to see you getting hurt. Especially when you did nothing to deserve it.”

Prompto smiles up at him. It’s a sad smile, but warm, nonetheless. “Thanks, Noct. That means a lot.”

Noctis blows out his breath. He flops onto the couch next to Prompto. “This fucking sucks. You sure you don’t want to give me names so I can get Specs to deal with them?”

“Nah.  _ That  _ would be an abuse of power.”

“For the greater good.”

“Yeah, but that wouldn’t really solve anything, you know?”

Sighing heavily, Noctis has to agree. What with the never-ending war and the increase of military activity, not to mention the uneasy media buzz lately, anti-refugee sentiments have been cropping up throughout the city in worrying levels. His dad is aware, but he is only one man. He may be the king, but what’s a king to mobs of terrified people?

Prompto leans back against the couch, too, close enough their shoulders bump together. Neither of them pull away.

“Sometimes I wish we could run away,” says Prompto quietly.

Noctis turns to look at his friend’s profile. Those bright blue eyes are distant, tracing over the blank ceiling like they’re searching for something that’s not there. An uncharacteristic frown tugs at his lips. There’s a red mark at the corner of his mouth, still tender from where he was punched just an hour ago.

Noctis has never wanted to hold someone more.

“Let’s do it,” he says, and Prompto tilts his head to look at him. Noctis holds his gaze. “I know where Specs keeps the keys, we can take his car and go. He always makes sure the tank is filled. We can get out of the city before they even realize we’re gone.”

“What about the ‘guards?”

“Like I haven’t mastered the art of sneaking past them.”

There’s a smile playing on Prompto’s lips now. “Where would we go?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve never left Insomnia, you know?”

“What? Dude, you know what that means.”

“We’re going to get lost?”

Noctis pokes him in the stomach. “Have a little faith in me, too, loser. I’m gonna give you a tour of Eos.”

“Great, we’re gonna get so lost.”

“Promptoooo.”

“Nooooct.”

Sliding down slightly, Noctis leans his head against Prompto’s shoulder. Prompto shifts to accommodate him. It’s a position that’s probably terrible for Noctis’ back, but is the most comfortable thing other than curling up next to Prompto on his bed. 

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly. “I’d run away with you in a heartbeat.”

“Even though you’re the heir to the throne?”

“Especially because I’m the heir to the throne.”

He can’t see Prompto’s expression from here, but he can hear the smile in Prompto’s voice. “Pretty sure that’d be considered treason, buddy. Tempting the Crown Prince to run away with a nobody commoner?”

“We’ll say we’re eloping. The media’ll love it.”

“How romantic.”

“We’ll travel across the world and fill an entire photo album. Send a few postcards to Specs and Gladio. And when we’re done, maaaybe we’ll come back.”

“They’ll be so mad.”

“Worth it.”

Prompto laughs, and Noctis smiles in response. Their fingers have found their way together, hooked around each other loosely. Noctis’ head rises and falls to the steady rhythm of Prompto’s breathing. Prompto’s body is warm next to his. He’ll probably fall asleep if he doesn’t move soon. He doesn’t want to move any time soon. He kind of wants to stay like this forever, actually.

His eyes have slipped closed by the time Prompto whispers, “Hey, Noct?”

“Mm?”

“Let’s take a raincheck on that escape plan, yeah? Just until I’m properly trained. Then we’ll go hunting for all the best fishing spots out there, okay?”

“And all the best photo ops.”

“Obviously.”

Noctis presses a smile into Prompto’s shirt. “Can’t wait, buddy.”

Prompto squeezes his hand. “Me neither.”


	28. slow hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look i didn't mean to update again so soon but sav [reminded me about how good and soft these boys are](https://twitter.com/qvrons/status/987087697826103296) so here this is and here i am
> 
> y'all know the title of this one is from ["slow hands"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBmNcLBaPUE) by niall horan

It takes Prompto a little too long and an entire SD card to notice it. The Thing. Noct’s Thing. He’s not sure if Noctis himself has noticed it, but even if he did, he doesn’t seem to care. And Prompto is usually inclined to follow Noct’s example, but.

They’ve been friends for a little over a year now. The media’s had their field days and the magazines have moved onto reporting on other frivolous gossip. The Citadel has processed a background check on Prompto three times over and Noct’s retainers—and on one terrifying occasion, the Immortal, the Marshal himself—have all personally sat him down and informally interrogated him on his motives for befriending the prince. That sounds a lot more serious than the actual meetings went, but Prompto was no less terrified at the time. He’s still unsure how he managed to survive the dinner with Noct’s dad.

The point is, they’ve grown close. Really close.  _ Sleepover at Noct’s on the weekends _ kind of close. There’s a drawer that Noctis cleared out just for Prompto. Ignis has learned Prompto’s allergies and his favourite dishes. Gladio has adopted him under his very strong and intricately tattooed wings. Prompto has been integrated into Noct’s routine almost seamlessly. So, really, Prompto has only his own dumb obliviousness to blame. 

He sits in his room, staring at where his laptop is displaying the photographs he’s hoarded over the last couple of months. His eyes are wide and his heart is thumping loud enough it drowns out the sounds of the shower running down the hall. He has the urge to scream into his pillow or pound against the bathroom door until Noctis answers him, he’s not sure which. All he knows is that his face is burning red.

The thing is, the Crown Prince is a solitary figure in most pictures. Decked out in that deep royal black and holding himself with the effortless grace he was born into, he’s always been quiet and still. Distant. Unreachable. Almost cold. But Noctis, the Noct that Prompto knows, the one that shows up in Prompto’s candids, that boy isn’t like that. At all. His gaze doesn’t skitter off the frame on purpose, his expression isn’t closed off, and sometimes he even poses. And lately, Noctis has warmed up to taking selfies with Prompto. He should have known something was up when Noctis agreed to those shots.

Because now, even though Noctis is just down the hall, in the silence of his bedroom, poring over all these stolen moments between the two of them, it’s impossible not to notice. It’s almost glaring, once Prompto catches on. Noct’s Thing.

Specifically, Noct’s Thing for casually hanging off Prompto in every photo.

His arm around Prompto’s waist, elbow hanging around Prompto’s neck. His chin dipping into the curve of Prompto’s shoulder. His head resting against Prompto’s arm. And, oh, his fingers—sticking into Prompto’s back pocket like they belong there, sometimes slipping out of sight behind the hem of Prompto’s shirt or the waistband of Prompto’s pants, peeking out from the back of Prompto’s neck, palm over Prompto’s collarbones while his fingertips hide under the collar of his shirt. Prompto has never given much thought to Noct’s touchiness when they’re hanging out together, but right now, he feels like he’s reliving every single touch, and Prompto is absolutely certain his skin is on fire.

He skims through the photographs again, and Noct’s smirk catches his eyes every time. He knows his best friend is stupidly photogenic, but the way Noct is staring right into the camera in some of these, while his hands are loosely wrapped around Prompto—it’s like he knows. It’s like he’s taunting anyone who dares to look too closely. It’s like he’s saying,  _ He’s mine.  _

Prompto, skin flushed and heartbeat rabbit-quick, isn’t too proud to admit that he likes it.

He’s so lost in scrolling through the photographs—he took a  _ lot _ and Noctis, he’s starting to realize, is a fucking enabler—that he doesn’t hear the shower being shut off and Noctis coming back into the room. He startles when the bed suddenly dips behind him.

“What are you looking at?” Noctis whispers into his ear.

“N-Noct!”

Prompto doesn’t move fast enough. Noctis hooks his chin over Prompto’s shoulder, chest pressed against Prompto’s back. His arms slide around Prompto’s sides and effectively traps him there. Not that Prompto is complaining. Noctis is warm after the shower, smelling like Prompto’s shampoo and something else that is Noctis himself entirely. It’s familiar and Prompto feels heady with their proximity.

“Wow, you have a lot of pictures,” says Noctis.

“I know,” Prompto says. He knows he’s still blushing, and he knows that Noctis knows. Betrayed by his own stupid pale skin.

Noctis shifts, his hair tickling the side of Prompto’s neck. He squirms a bit. He feels Noctis smile into his skin.

“See something you like?”

Prompto bites his lip. Noct’s hands have started to wander where they are by his hips. This is familiar, too, though in a more recent way. Like finding a new favourite flavour of popsicle from the convenience store down the street. Refreshing and it fills Prompto with a rush of something electric every time.

“Yeah,” he breathes out eventually. Noctis’ lips have found their way to the tender skin at the back of Prompto’s neck, and his hands are tracing nonsensical shapes under Prompto’s shirt. His eyes flutter shut, photographs forgotten. “You told Iggy you’re staying over?”

Noctis sighs, drawing away slightly. Prompto whines softly at the loss. “Don’t mention Specs while I’m feeling you up, Prom.”

“Sor-ry,” Prompto says, drawing out the word. He twists around to catch Noct’s eye. “The last time you stayed over, Gladio almost destroyed my front door, remember? This apartment is on lease, Noct. Think about me.”

“I am thinking about you.” Noctis grins at him, boyish and wicked. “Mostly you, without that shirt, and my hands all over y—”

Slapping a hand over Noct’s sly, sly, perfectly kissable mouth, Prompto hisses, “You’re a terrible influence.”

Noctis responds by kissing his palm. Pouting, Prompto drops his hand. He meets Noctis’ gaze, taking in the sight of Noctis drinking him in. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that, the way those calm blue eyes can shift into something so intense and mesmerizing. With a dramatic sigh of resignation, one that neither of them buys, Prompto leans forwards and closes the distance between their lips.

Behind him, Noctis reaches over, and shuts his laptop closed with a soft  _ snap _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noctis is a spoiled, spoiled boy, and prompto is only too happy to indulge him


	29. (what a privilege) to waste the day away with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where things are brighter, softer, and the fates are kinder, allowing these kids to find their way to the happiness they deserve.  
> technically could be set along the same universe as [part vii: fluffy reincarnation au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969971/chapters/24614721)
> 
> also a fill for [NifflerStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NifflerStorm), who requested a promptis date, "Without any guards or sad stuff or media, just hand holding softness~" ... i realized i didn't go into much detail about the handholding but this was almost 1.5k of just me waxing poetry about promptis, so,,

As soon as the car pulls into the temporary parking lot by the dormitory buildings, Noctis is swinging his bag over his shoulder and unlocking the door.

“Thanks, Specs,” he throws over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget to tell your father you’ve arrived,” Ignis says.

Noctis grunts in acknowledgement, but he’s already shutting the door. He’s about to sprint away but Ignis calls out his name one more time. He bends down to peer through the window.

“Say hello to Prompto for me,” Ignis says, “and have fun on your date.”

Noctis quirks his lips at him. “Have fun at work, Iggy.”

Ignis rolls his eyes, a habit that he’s picked up from hanging around them too much. Noctis can still remember the shock and euphoria of seeing Ignis do that for the first time. Prompto is still on a self-declared mission to capture it on film.

As the car drives away, Noctis makes his way to building C. He sends an idle text to tell his boyfriend he’s here. The response comes barely ten seconds later, punctuated with the usual mess of emoticons and emojis. Then the door is swinging open, and Prompto is there, grinning and just plain dazzling.

Gladio often jokes that they all need to wear shades when Prompto is around, and—not that Noctis will ever admit it—Noctis agrees wholeheartedly.

“G’morning, Noct!” Prompto sings.

“Hey,” says Noctis. “You know you’re the only one that can convince me to be up and about this early in the morning, right?”

“It’s almost twelve, Noct. It’s not early.”

“Early for me.”

Prompto shakes his head, but he’s smiling. Noctis follows that smile up the two flights of stairs (because Prompto doesn’t like elevators, and Noctis likes being able to put pressure on his knee again) to Prompto’s dorm room. His roommate is still there, a bundle of blankets on the other bed. Noctis throws Prompto a pointed look, but Prompto just rolls his eyes. See, that’s where Ignis gets it from.

He drops his things on Prompto’s bed while Prompto prods at his roommate to remind him that Noctis is staying the night. His only reply is a sleepy groan. Noctis shoots off a quick text to his dad, and then they’re bounding down the stairs and out to the courtyard again. 

“So,” Noctis asks, “where are you taking me?”

Prompto tugs at his arm until Noctis allows him to link their fingers together. He swings their joined hands lightly between them as they cut across the parking lot. “It won’t be a surprise, then,” he says.

“Please let the surprise be food.”

Prompto gasps dramatically. “How did you know?”

“I’m a genius. You’re dating a genius, buddy.”

“Oh, really? That’s news to me.”

They continue to bicker all the way down the main road, but it’s a good chattering. It’s so easy to banter with Prompto, even before they really got to know each other. While they’re pretty much opposites in personality and habits, their sense of humour is one and the same, and then they discovered their shared interests, and the rest is history. Something about Prompto reminds Noctis of himself. Something about Prompto completes the parts of Noctis he didn’t even know he was missing.

Sometimes, Noctis thinks about taking a page from Gladio’s book and writing Prompto some poetry. But he already makes a fool of himself staring at the boy in broad daylight, and Prompto has plenty of photographic evidence of that.

They end up at the diner just off campus. It’s cheap, not too greasy, but unhealthy enough that it feels like a treat. The lighting is always warm, turned just on the low side of bright, and the jukebox in the corner might be stuck on the same four songs but they were four damn good jams. The best part, though, are the booth seats. They’re slightly crinkled with wear, but they’re soft and in the back corner— _ their _ booth—it’s like they’re in their own little world. The waitress only swings by to deliver their food and drinks. The people passing by the window don’t realize the two of them laughing to themselves over milkshakes and slightly-too-crispy fries. 

“Is this the surprise?” says Noctis. “You treating me to lunch?”

“It’s brunch!”

Noctis wrinkles his nose. “I bet Specs would be offended if he heard you call this brunch.”

“Good thing I’m not on a date with him, then.”

“I don’t think you’re his type, anyway.”

“Thank gods. I don’t know how to break it to him that I’ve already tricked a huge dork into going out with me.”

Stealing one of Prompto’s fries, Noctis knocks their legs together under the table. “The greatest magic trick you’ll ever pull off.”

“The greatest magic trick anyone will ever pull off?”

There’s a glob of ketchup on Prompto’s cheek. His fingers are slippery with grease, and his shirt is sporting that days-old wrinkled look. 

Noctis has never felt more endeared to this boy before him. 

“Yeah,” he says. He gives in to the urge to reach across the table and brush his thumb across Prompto’s cheek. He sticks his thumb into his mouth and makes a face at the ketchup. He still can’t understand how Prompto can eat this stuff. 

But there’s a fierce blush spreading across Prompto’s face now. Definitely worth it.

They leave the diner hand in hand, elbows knocking into each other as they cackle over a dumb joke Iris told Noctis the day before. The sun is out, the people around them anonymous strangers passing by. There’s no rush. There’s no rush.

“Noct, in here!”

He cranes his neck to glance up at the worn out sign. “The ChocoMoog arcade? What’s a ChocoMoog?”

Prompto lets out a scandalized gasp. “Have you never heard of chocobos before? Or moogles? They’re, like, the classic retro game mascots!”

“Okay,” says Noctis easily. “Should I win a chocomoog or whatever for you? As proof of my undying love?”

The grin that Prompto sends him is both blinding and wicked.

By the time they leave the unexpectedly popular arcade, the sun has moved across the sky, and Prompto’s backpack is filled with not one but three small chocobo plushies. Noctis probably spent more money than he should, but the happy twinkle in Prompto’s eyes is worth it. Prompto is always worth it. 

“What else do you have planned for the best date ever?” Noctis asks.

“Excuse me, every date I took you on is the best date ever.” Prompto tugs him across the street, eyes set forwards with intent. “How do you feel about sushi?”

“Uh, it’s good? I do like fish.”

“Of course you do, you absolute nerd.”

“You’re the one dating this nerd.”

“I’m a good person who makes dubious decisions, alright?”

They buy discount takeout from a tiny shop Prompto frequents. Prompto insists on paying, so Noctis lets him. He reclaims Prompto’s hand as soon as he can.

They take winding back roads up the hill. The sky is dimming behind them, and cars roll by slowly. It’s a beautiful night to fall in love.

There’s an old cemetery up at the top of the hill. Most people have moved down to the one closer to the city center, but some older generations still liked the quiet up here. The view is another plus. There’s a crumbling statue of a king of some sort at the gates, holding a great sword and standing tall. Noctis finds a familiar sort of resonance with it, along with an unspeakable twang of sadness. Legends are meant to be forgotten, twisted and moulded in the forge of time.

“You alright, man?” Prompto squeezes his hand. “You afraid of ghosts? We can leave, if you want.”

Noctis shakes his head. “You said the view was worth it.”

“Oh, it is. As long as we stay out of the graves, it’s okay. Come on.”

Prompto leads them to the edge of the third row of graves, where the grassy ledge juts out just slightly, overlooking the city below. A gentle breeze blows by, but there’s a certain hush that remains. Noctis decides he likes it.

The sushi is gone by the time the sun disappears fully behind the horizon and the first stars start peeking out. Prompto is retelling a story about that time his roommate attempted to begin a mutiny in their shared class, all because the professor insisted on glorifying Niflheim history when it was everybody’s most hated unit. Noctis has heard it twice over but he never minds Prompto’s chattering. The funny expressions he makes, the exaggerated arm gestures, the way his voice rises and falls like its own day and night. Noctis would gladly spend the rest of his life listening to Prompto. But there’s still so much he wants to do with him.

It’s okay, though. They have time.

With that reassuring thought, Noctis leans back against his bestest friend in the whole universe, and breathes.


	30. wanna lie down with me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm stuck in tw around family for the time being and feeling stressed so i've been emergency-writing some soft promptis... this is what happens when u know ur touchstarved but u know ur too shy and reserved to do something about it so u just project heavily onto ur faves
> 
> slight AU where the prophecy fucked off and they made it to college

At three twenty-two in the morning, Prompto finds himself stumbling out of bed and making his way to his front door. There isn’t any knocking, but he can still hear his phone chirping cheerfully where he left it on the bedside table. Rubbing his eyes, Prompto yanks the door open.

Noctis stands on the other side. He’s dressed in his usual dark clothes, royal black and easy to blend into the night. His hood is up, and his fingers are clenched around his phone in a way that sends off alarm bells in Prompto’s head. Needless to say, Prompto is rapidly waking up.

“Hey, Noct,” he says, opening the door wider. “Did something happen?”

Noctis shrugs. He slips his phone into his pocket, face half-hidden behind his hood. “Can I come in?” he asks, even though Prompto is already moving out of the way.

The apartment is silent again as Prompto follows his friend through the living area and past the bathroom back to his bedroom. The place is small, just enough space for a single college student to live in, but the rent is cheap and the neighbourhood isn’t bad. Prompto likes it here, and he knows that Noctis likes it here, too, with how often he comes to hide away from all the noise in the Citadel.

But tonight is different. There’s a restlessness to Noctis’ tense frame as if he can’t hold himself still, as if he isn’t entirely certain of his actions. He’s pulled down his hood now, revealing a head full of messy hair and a haggard expression.

“Did you run here?”

“No,” says Noctis, “I warped.”

Prompto blinked. “What about your ‘guards? What if someone saw you—”

“Prom,” Noctis says, and something about his voice stops Prompto in his tracks.

His friend is standing in the middle of his bedroom now, looking lost despite having been here loads of times before. He’s shaking, Prompto realizes. In Prompto’s eyes, Noctis has never once looked like the untouchable prince that everyone else saw, but right now, he looks untouchable for another reason entirely. He looks young. Vulnerable. 

Prompto is reaching out before he realizes it. His hands cup Noctis’ face, gently tugging him closer. Noctis allows the touch, eyes closing and leaning towards Prompto. His skin is still flushed from his hurry here. Carefully, Prompto brushes Noctis’ dark bangs out of his eyes.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Talk to me?”

For a heartbeat, neither of them moves. Noctis breathes in, and Prompto breathes with him. When Noctis opens his eyes, he looks calmer, though not by much.

“Prom,” he says, “Do you mind if I—if we—” His voice cuts off, almostly shyly, but his hands are circling Prompto’s waist, applying steady pressure to Prompto’s hips. It’s a familiar touch, but there’s something fragile about the way he’s holding onto Prompto. Like he’s afraid to press too hard, but he’s also afraid of letting go.

“Yeah,” Prompto replies without much thought. He’s not completely sure what he’s agreeing to, but he has an idea. And besides, when has Prompto ever said no to Noctis?

Noctis slides a hand around Prompto’s head, tilting his face up until their mouths align, and then they’re kissing softly. Prompto’s eyes slip shut. He leans into Noctis, barely aware of his fingers tangling themselves within messy dark hair. Their lips move together with familiarity and ease, something warm spreading from Prompto’s chest through his entire being, right down to his toes. Prompto likes kissing Noctis just as much as he likes everything else about Noctis, because Noctis makes him feel like he’s needed, like he’s necessary, like he’s  _ something. _

Right now is no different. Except... Prompto jolts when he feels fingernails slipping under the hem of his shirt and digging into his bare skin. It’s not the slight pricks of pain, but rather the way Noctis doesn’t even pause. He kisses Prompto harder, almost fiercely, a tinge of desperation in the way he follows Prompto’s body as if trying to meld the two of them together. Nudging Prompto’s mouth open, Noctis presses in, pushing Prompto towards the bed at the same time. They fall over with a soft thud, but Noctis barely looks up.

Prompto doesn’t know what brought this on. But when Noctis tugs at his shirt, he cooperates. When Noctis crawls over him, trails hot kisses down his throat, Prompto only holds the other boy closer. There’s always a thrill that shoots up his spine, being so exposed like this, all his scars, past and present, laid out before Noctis. No matter how many times they’ve done this before, Prompto still shivers at Noctis’ every touch.

Lips brush against his belly button, and Prompto jumps. He’s just wondering if maybe he should put a pause on this, just long enough so he can make sure Noctis really wants this, and maybe also reach over to the bottom drawer of his bedside table—when Noctis suddenly pulls back. He sits up, straddling Prompto’s legs, and just. Stops.

“Noct?”

“Sorry,” Noctis says, barely above a whisper. “It’s not—You don’t—I don’t know what I want. Sorry.”

Breathing still uneven, Prompto reaches for his friend’s hand. “Hey, no,” he says. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”

Noctis shakes his head. But he doesn’t pull away.

“Noct, hey. Hey, look at me.”

It takes a moment, but Noctis does. He looks tired. The slightly puffiness to his eyes still hasn’t faded. Prompto’s heart aches. He squeezes Noctis’ hand.

“Wanna lie down with me?” he asks, already nudging the other boy onto the bed next to him. They shuffle around until they’re lying sideways, facing each other, limbs tangled together disastrously because Prompto’s bed is nowhere near as fancy or big as Noctis’ but it’s a position they’re familiar with. Comfortable. Almost instantly, tension bleeds out of Noctis’ body. Prompto nuzzles his face against Noctis’ head.

“Sorry,” Noctis mumbles into his collarbone.

Prompto sighs into his hair. “No sorrys, remember? You’re feeling shitty, and I’m here to make you feel less shitty. That’s my duty as a Crown citizen—and your best friend.”

There’s a huff, and the hand at Prompto’s hip squeezes lightly.

“I’ll skip class tomorrow,” Prompto announces. “We’ll hole up here and take on that level thirty dungeon boss and get Iggy to deliver dinner. You don’t have to leave the bed until you’re feeling better. Sound good?”

A pause. Then Noctis nods, curling tighter around Prompto. Prompto responds in kind, burying a yawn into the crown of Noctis’ head. 

He’s just about to drift off when he hears Noctis whisper, “Thanks, Prom.”

Prompto smiles sleepily as he replies, “Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> again, pls feel free to hmu if you, too, support giving these kids some soft fluff and Good Times, and would like to request a particular fluff prompt for this collection. 
> 
> come yell at me about these soft boys @puddingcatbae on tumblr or twitter!!


End file.
